


[Obsolete] Heart of Lightning

by solemnwar



Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Gen, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-23
Updated: 2016-11-16
Packaged: 2018-03-25 09:31:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 31,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3805426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solemnwar/pseuds/solemnwar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A life-long slave, Byz has gained the chance of a lifetime to escape her servitude and become Sith. But while the life of a slave wasn't easy, the life of a Sith will be even harder as she faces obstacles she could never have dreamed of.</p><p>[This version is obsolete. A new version will be posted, and this will be left for posterity.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Welcome to Korriban, Slave

**Author's Note:**

> Just a heads up: this will be effectively a novelization of the Sith Inquisitor storyline, with little extra bits of character interaction thrown in between companions and other storyline characters. So very heavy spoilers, to just about everything.
> 
> Canon typical violence, although I'll do my best not to clutter up the story with too much fighting... difficult for an MMO, I know. Probably explicit sex, depending on my mood, but that'll be rare and I'll warn ahead of time.

            Since the day she had been born, Byz had been a slave. No matter that she was a Sith pureblood— through some cruel twist of fate, her family lineage had been determined inferior and doomed to the fate of servitude to cruel masters. It was a fate she had resigned herself to, for the most part, and endeavored to be as little noticed as could possibly be obtained. She had been relatively successful, barring cruel events that were almost unavoidable, and she could _almost_ call herself content.

            And then her life was unceremoniously uprooted when it was discovered she was force sensitive.

            What with the devastating war with the Republic, trained Sith were in short supply, so all force sensitive people— regardless of slave or alien status— were immediately shipped off to Korriban for training in the Force. Or die. Mostly die, from what she understood from the whispers among the slaves and the slightly-too-loud gossiping that went on during various society events held by her various Masters. And soon, she would know herself.

            Glancing out the shuttle window as the barren desert dotted with ancient looking structures juxtaposed with modern Imperial buildings, she wondered if perhaps jumping to her death would not be a preferable outcome to whatever awaited her at the Academy. The stories told between the acolytes had gotten more and more horrifying— death and betrayal were the Way of the Sith, and they revelled in the pain and torment they caused. She was used to that, being a slave— she was not considered human, after all, and therefore cruelty could be exacted without consequence or scorn— but the extent to which the Sith were said to go was beyond even the cruelty of her Masters.

            The shuttle landed, and she made her way out with the other Acolytes. Byz paused a moment to take in the sights— towering statues made of sandstone, looming over the shuttle bay and glowering disapproval at the clearly inferior specimens of life that now walked their domain, lit by a savage sun that pounded undeterred to scorch the earth and living things not smart enough to find shade. Truly, it characterised what she knew of the Sith quite well.

            Distracted by what she was certain was her impending doom, she was caught off guard when another Acolyte slammed into her as he walked past, knocking her off balance. He barely took the time to glance back at her before continuing on, and she noted that he was a Sith Pureblood, much like herself— but he clearly felt himself superior. _Not a former slave, then,_ she thought to herself. There was an air of arrogance that surrounded him like a miasma, and she made the mental note to avoid him as much as possible.

            Having dawdled long enough, she made her way over to the other Acolytes and the Overseer who was to... well, oversee their education. From what she could remember from their crash-course education, his name was Harkun, and the first words from his mouth told her everything she needed to know about him, and she hated him already.

            "Ah, the last one to arrive is finally here," he said to her. "I hope you don't think you're _special_. It would be a shame if freedom went to your head, or if you somehow got the idea you didn't need to _pass your trials_ to become Sith!"

            Byz would never understand why Harkun had despised her so much. Even amongst the other former slaves, he'd singled her out as a particular object of scorn. Was it a teaching technique, designed to bring hatred into her soul and quicker to the power of the Dark Side, or did she simply happen to be unlucky in whom he chose to torment? She would never know.

            "Lord Zash has tasked me with sorting through you _refuse_ to find one worthy of being her apprentice, and I intend to do just that." He continued. Byz noted that the other pureblood had not remained to listen to Harkun's little speech, and she wondered where he'd gone off to. But more importantly...

            "Who is this Zash?" She asked.

            "That's _Lord_ Zash to you, slave," he snarled at her. "She's a Dark Lord of the Sith and more important than you'll _ever_ be." What a pleasant fellow. "Now, the rest of you _gutter trash_ already know your trial. Get going while I bring our latecomer up to speed."

            Another Acolyte— she'd introduced herself as Kory on the shuttle— approached her. "Watch your back, friend. And don't worry. It'll be alright— he can't kill us all."

            That was insanely optimistic of her. Byz appreciated it, at least. "I will. And you take care of yourself."

            "Believe me, I'll be watching back, front, everywhere."

            As Kory left, Harkun started talking to Byz again. "Now, slave, for your trial: There's a hermit named Spindrall who lives in the tomb of Ajunta Pall in the Valley of the Dark Lords." Byz kept her incomprehension to herself; he didn't need to know that all of these names meant nothing to her. "Spindrall's a lunatic, but Lord Zash sees him as some kind of prophet. Once you find him, he will test you."

            "The more challenging, the better," she said, almost as if unaffected, erecting her tried-and-true shell of faux superiority and sarcasm. As a slave it could only be used against the barbs of other slaves— masters always took it as a challenge to break you further. But here, no matter what Harkun said, she was no longer a slave... and she'd need her shell to survive.

            "But there- you know your task," Harkun continued, as if she hadn't spoken. "Spindrall lives in the tomb of Ajunta Pall in the Valley of the Dark Lords." Did he think she was stupid? He'd just said that. "Don't keep Spindrall waiting, _slave_." With that last reminder of her sub-human origins, he left her to go on her way.


	2. The Tomb of Ajunta Pall

           Byz stepped from the small spaceport to view the Valley of the Dark Lords in all its glory, multiple moons hanging low in the sky like oppressive observers. In reality it was fairly underwhelming, just a good deal of crumbling tombs with modern technology dotted here and there. And k'lor'slugs. Lots and _lots_ of k'lor'slugs. She took a step back from the platform, repulsed by many-legged creatures with impossibly large, tooth-ringed mouths. They were in the way of the tomb she had to go to, however, so she'd have to sort them out. It would give her a chance to test out her training blade that she was barely instructed on how to use, and see if she was any good at throwing lightning around.

            Cautiously approaching a pair of k'lor'slugs, she tested out the range of her lightning until it hit one. She had almost no range, and she'd barely managed to shock one before they noticed her and rushed. The one caught with lightning was momentarily stunned, and she dispatched it with a quick slash of a blade, turning to parry the lunge of the other and hack it to death with some very sloppy blows.

            She stood over the corpses, breathing heavy, marvelling in the glorious feeling as adrenaline rushed through her system. Was this what power felt like, this heady feeling that made her feel like she could take on whatever came across her? No wonder the Sith were always breaking out into fights with each other. It also explained why so many of them seemed to die in remarkably stupid, avoidable ways. She made a mental note to try very, very hard not to be one of those.

            K'lor'slugs, as it turned out, really weren't all that much of a challenge, even for a scarcely-trained former slave, and she made it to the tomb of Ajunta Pall in quick time. She descended into the tomb with a sigh of relief as the cool shadows enveloped her and protect her from the relentless beating of the sun. As she made her way deeper, she was beckoned by a soldier.

            "Excuse me, acolyte. Sergeant Cormun, Fifth Infantry company, Korriban Regiment. Can I- can I talk to you?"

            It was a new thing, people being hesitant, even _afraid_ , to even dare to ask permission to talk. Unlike taking down k'lor'slugs, this only made her feel uneasy. She didn't want people afraid of her... just respectful. But she was busy. "I'm a little tied up at the moment," she said, politely as she could.

            "Understood, sir- but I require assistance from someone who can do things I can't," he said. It was pretty rare to find someone in the Empire, even a non-Sith, to admit to nothing less than complete superiority. He looked at her more closely. "You're one of the slaves Harkun brought in on the last transport, right? Here to prove yourself to the bloodthirsty overseers?"

            "Prove myself or die, apparently," she responded dryly.

            "Well, here's your chance to not only show off for the overseers, but start building ties to the Imperial military as well." From what Byz understood, the military and the Sith didn't get along terribly well, as the Sith felt they were superior, and the military got aggravated by the Sith meddling in everything. Not nearly as aggravated as Imperial Intelligence was, if rumours were to be believed. "I'm here commanding a hard target mission to exterminate k'lor'slugs in this tomb. They're... horrific things. Mouths bigger than your head."

            Byz felt better that she wasn't the only one thinking that.

            "I've lost three squads of good men fighting them. They come in packs- they just... they'll swallow a man whole," he shuddered, and she had to suppress her own urge to shudder with him.

            "Then I suggest you try a new strategy," she suggested politely. Like maybe an orbital bombardment, Sith artifacts be damned.

            "Look we- I've identified the enemy's weak spot, but it's not easy to get at. The damn k'lor'slugs breed so fast there's no way to wipe them out conventionally. So we started targeting their egg chambers. They went _insane_."

            _Well, obviously,_ thought Byz, _any creature gets upset when you target their brood._

            "We managed to get explosives to all of the egg chambers, but the k'lor'slugs were all over us before we could detonate them."

            And finally he got to the point. "Sounds like you need some help."

            "Don't underestimate those k'lor'slugs, sir. They're... they're smarter than they look."

_Or perhaps you're just an idiot, Sergeant,_ was Byz's uncharitable thought. She hadn't felt the k'lor'slugs were that difficult to deal with. She was a Sith Acolyte, true, but _still_...

            With a helpful marker on her map to direct her to the explosives, she made her way there, swatting aside k'lor'slugs with lightning and blade. In the tomb, with more of them, they were harder to deal with than the ones outside, but still not _nearly_ as difficult as the good Sergeant had made them out to be. She set off the explosives, and ran before she could be caught in either the explosion or the rush of angry k'lor'slugs.

            Sergeant Cormun greeted her with enthusiasm. "I heard the explosions when you set off the charges. Outstanding, sir!"

            "Happy to help," she said politely, "But now I really must be going..."

            Byz wondered if taking the time to help others would hurt her in the long run. She'd already been mocked for being late at the landing bay, what would happen if she were to be late again?

            "Best not to keep this Spindrall fellow waiting," she breathed into the damp air of the k'lor'slug-infested tomb, and nearly landed on her face tripping over a data pad she hadn't seen lodged in the slime covering the floor. Muttering a curse, she picked it up to see if it was something important.

            It didn't contain anything all that pressing, just orders to recover artifacts stolen by apparently suicidal tomb looters, and maybe kill them as well. Easy enough to do on her way to Spindrall.

\---

            Humans were more difficult to combat that k'lor'slugs, as Byz soon found out, but she persevered and eventually found herself in the little area Spindrall had set aside for himself. There was a set of stairs leading up to a lone figure that she assumed was Spindrall, and before the stairs were various Acolytes training against dummies with lightning and blade. She walked up the stairs to speak with him.

            Spindrall was kneeling in front of a statue, meditating on the force or something like that, and started speaking as she approached him. "Slave." She was beginning to get really annoyed that people kept calling her that. "Welcome to my humble hole," he said as he turned around. "You are here for your trial, yes? Learn the ways of the Sith from a doddering old man in a tomb." Well, he clearly knew what people thought of him. "And hopefully return to your master with the mark of my approval."

            "Actually, I just came to get some fresh air," was Byz's sarcastic response.

            "Do you take me for a fool? No one comes into these tombs for the sheer pleasure of it- not even me," he huffed. Clearly, he did not understand sarcasm. Or didn't appreciate. Not her kind of man, either way. "No, they come for power, because they sense that these tombs hold the secrets of the dark side. And they do," he continued, turning away from her to face the statues as she curiously looked around the room to see if she could spot any of these 'secrets'. "But before you can learn them, you must pass a trial of blood. Survive this, and I will teach you what I know."

            Spindrall knelt back down, clearly unwilling to talk with her further until she completed her trial of blood. She had the sinking feeling it involved the Acolytes she'd seen training as she walked in. She turned to face the entrance, looking down at the Acolytes below, and noted that they were watching her.

_They've been training far longer than I. A few k'lor'slugs and random, untrained humans is nothing. How am I to possibly survive? There's no way!_ The panic crept in, sinking deep into her bones and paralyzing her as the Acolytes approached. _I'm going to die. I'm going to die and surviving this long will have been for nothing._

            A feeling stirred within her. She couldn't quite pinpoint what it was. Survival instinct, perhaps? Perhaps a bit of encouragement from the force— she would never know. But it lifted her from her quagmire of panic. _No,_ she thought. _I am not going to die_ _— I am_ Sith _and I have survived countless humiliations and I can survive_ this _!_

            Something on her expression must have changed, as the Acolytes paused in their advance, and she chose that moment to unleash a powerful shock of electricity that paralysed one in its place. She threw a second blast of electricity at a closer Acolyte and finished him off with two quick strikes from her blade, whirling to finish off the paralysed one before he could advance.

            More Acolytes approached, but she'd found her rhythm and it was easy work. A long stream of lightning killed one by the other reached her, and she blocked his blows with her blade before dispatching him. The last two were finished just as easily, and she stood in the training area surrounded by corpses and breathing heavily as the rush of power and adrenaline thrummed through her. It was a struggle to put her blade away and approach Spindrall once again, the twisting feeling urging her to _strike_ against him; he could be an enemy and must be brought down before he could do the same to her.

            It was _terrifying_.

            "Excellent," said Spindrall as she approached, standing up from his meditation. "Those former acolytes wanted nothing more than to earn their second chance for glory by killing you and taking your place. But your desire proved stronger, and their blood became the mantle of your victory. Well done- but you are not Sith yet."

            He put his hands behind his back and began to leisurely pace back and forth. "Peace is a lie, there is only passion. Through passion, I gain strength. Through strength, power. Through power, victory. Through victory, my chains are broken," he intoned, and Byz felt a strange resonance with the words as he said them. " _This_ is the Sith Code. Commit it to your heart, and you will have the strength to crush your enemies. Do you understand?"

            Byz hesitated. "Yes, I think I do. I must use my emotions to grow strong."

            "Do not be timid," Spindrall instructed, "Humility is the attitude of a slave, not a Sith. Now go. Return to Harkun and nurture your hatred for him. And use your fear of him to grow stronger. He may raise his fist to strike, but it is Lord Zash who determines where the blow will land."

            "But who controls Zash, I wonder?" Byz mused aloud.

            "When you know the answer to that," he replied, "you will have power over _both_ your masters. Now go! Leave me to my rest." He knelt back down, and that was the end of that.

            Byz continued her way through the tomb, stopping to pick up the stolen artifacts and dispatch more looters on the way. As she stepped out of the other entrance to the tomb, she sucked in a breath as she took in the sight of the Sith Academy.

            It was _enormous_ , towering over everything before it as if to emphasise that nothing would ever be as important as the reigning Sith. Byz thought that might be a trifle arrogant on their part, but that seemed to be about par for the course for the Sith.

            She took a moment to inform the military that she'd taken care of the looter problem in the tomb and drop of the artifacts, before steeling herself and making her way into the Sith Academy.


	3. The Sith Academy

            Assistant Overseer Morkun was appalled by the Acolyte he saw approaching him. Thin, with obviously no training, she surely was one of the slaves they'd brought in to pollute their institution. The only thing she had going for her was that she was a Sith pureblood— otherwise she was an utter disaster. And he had to question how "pure" she could possibly be, as her skin was lingering more on the side of _purple_ than red and marred by what looked like a vicious burn mark on the left side of her face. Her haircut seemed to attempt, and fail, to hide it under the black strands.

            "You must be one of the slave acolytes. Pretty easy to see why Overseer Harkun was horrified," he sneered as she approached. "Regardless, Lord Zash has made it clear that all new acolytes must learn martial skills as well as face their trials. Though, why _anyone_ thinks you can be taught is beyond me."

            Byz glowered at him with uncontained disdain. "I assume someone a bit more... _learned_ will be instructing me?"

            "Someone with a bit less pull, you mean. Not for all the credits in the world..." He replied with equal disdain. At least they were agreed on that. "You will find the instructors in the Academy's archive. Hurry and try not to embarrass your betters."

            Attempting to make him spontaneously combust with her mind didn't seem to work, so Byz left to go visit the trainers before seeing Harkun. He'd waited this long, he could wait a little more.

            It didn't take long to receive her training, as it was more of a quick top-up of what she'd already learned in blade work and a few more ways to use her force powers. Her favourite (after the lightning, of course) was the one that allowed her to blast people away from her. As much as she wanted to linger to learn even more, she knew she'd have to face Harkun sooner or later, and it would probably be best to do it _sooner_ or else he might decide to throw her off the roof of the academy.

            When she arrived, the rest of the Acolytes were all already gathered, and apparently waiting on her once again. Even the pureblood who had bumped into her at the landing bay was there. Embarrassing, but she refused to let any emotion show on her face.

            "Ah, the last one. Always the latecomer," said Harkun as she walked into the room. "Now we can see what the hermit thinks of you slime." He looked over them. "Hm. Acolyte Kory. Step forward, please."

            Byz felt a tingling, uneasy sensation crawling up her spine. _Oh, no... oh, no, please..._

            "Yes, overseer," Kory said obediently, stepping forward as he commanded.

            "You are a weak, pathetic rodent and even a lunatic like Spindrall can see this," Harkun sneered at the young redhead, and Byz felt an icy-cold tingling wash across her skin as he said it. "And that means..."

            Byz refused to look away. Even as Kory's body convulsed horrifying under the effects of the lightning; even as her pained, dying screams rang in her ears and echoed around the walls of Harkun's office; even as the smell of burnt flesh and hair violently assaulted her senses. She kept her eyes affixed on Kory and watched her horrifying, violent death at the hands of Overseer Harkun, keeping a small place in the back of her mind for this moment so she would never, ever forget. _This_ was the horrifying reality of the Sith, more potent a lesson than any she would ever learn, and it would do her well not to forget it.

            And in the part of her that was so very human, to remember the poor woman who had been deemed unworthy to live simply because she did not fit someone else's narrow-minded ideals.

            Kory's lifeless body slumped to the floor, and Harkun barely gave it a second glance before moving on. "Meet our newcomer, Ffon Althe," he gestured towards pureblood. "This is real Sith strength, and he will tear you apart and crush your bones, slaves." Personally, Byz wasn't terribly impressed with the young man, but what did she know? "Look on him! No connections left in the world, but pure Sith blood! This- this is Lord Zash's future apprentice! Not _filth_ like you!"

            His almost religious fever-pitch dedication towards Ffon was almost laughable, if it didn't underscore how very prejudiced Harkun was against all of them. Survival would be incredibly difficult against those sorts of loaded odds, and Byz wondered if perhaps stowing away on a cruiser wouldn't be a preferable option.

            Byz caught Ffon's eye, and it was clear that he didn't think much of her either. She would _not_ let him unnerve her. "Congratulations on your new pet," she said in a bored tone with a roll of her eyes. "Now give us the rest of the trial."

            To his credit, Harkun rose above her barb. "Step this way, slave," he said to her. "I want to speak to you privately. The rest of you- get out of here. You know your trials. You, too, Ffon. Spindrall awaits."

            _Ffon hasn't even seen Spindrall yet? And Harkun complained about_ me _being late!_

            The rest of the Acolytes filed out, and Byz was left alone with Harkun.

            "Now, listen to me. Spindrall is a lunatic. His approval means nothing. You are filth and you will die. Is that clear?" He snarled at her. Byz felt this was a trifle overdone, making it obvious he was trying far too hard to instill into her a lie.

            She cocked on eyebrow. "You think you scare me?"

            "You are nothing. And don't forget it," he said, one last shot at her self-confidence. "Now, your second trial: Lord Zash has requested a special trial for you, which you will no doubt fail. Go to Inquisitor Zyn in the jails. He will fill you in on the details- and most likely, hasten your demise."

            "Don't count on my demise, Harkun," Byz warned him, "I don't die easy."

            "Don't _boast_ , slave," was Harkun's all too predictable response. "I don't want to see you again until you're back from the jails. That's all."

            Byz stepped away and turned, mustering all her inner strength to not give poor, dead Kory one last glance and show weakness, and made her way to Inquisitor Zyn


	4. Inquisitor

            Byz dutifully made her way to the jails, wondering what sort of awful trial she would be made to do. She'd had to clean up after an impromptu torture session at an estate, once, and it hadn't been pretty— she didn't know _how_ the intestines had gotten onto the ceiling, but she didn't want to know. Ever.

            "Acolyte!" Zyn greeted her as she walked into the room. "You've arrived, and not a moment too soon. Harkun has given me very specific instructions."

            Byz kept her expression blank, but inwardly cringed.

            "You were raised as a slave but must discard those traits and learn to control others," he continued, and I have _just_ the task for that end." He gestured towards a young man strapped to an interrogation table. "Meet this drivelling excuse for an acolyte. He will be your victim."

            "Victim?" Byz blurted out before she could stop herself, "I don't much like the sound of that!"

            "I personally prefer the word "subject" myself, but most people can only comprehend my work in crass terms," said Zyn mournfully, either missing or purposely ignoring Byz's horror. "A short while ago, there was what we call an 'unauthorised murder' here in the Academy."

            _Does that mean there are_ authorised _murders here? How does that even begin to work?_ Thought Byz, but kept her questions to herself.

            "A rivalry among apprentices resulted in death. Interrogate him. Make him tell you who committed this crime, at any cost," Zyn instructed.

            "I'll see what I can do," said Byz dubiously, "but I won't torture anyone."

            "Already you are a dissappointment to me, acolyte," Zyn sighed. "But Harkun said nothing of torture being a requirement, so I will not restrict you." Thank the Force for small miracles.

            Zyn walked to the side a few steps to give her some space, and Byz walked over to the poor Acolyte to begin the interrogation. Perhaps she could get away with not torturing him, but that didn't mean she had to be nice, either. Sometimes the threat of torture worked better than the actual pain... something she'd learned as a slave.

            The Acolyte struggled weakly against his bonds. "Nngh... please don't hurt me, I don't know anything!"

            "Your defiance is foolish and misplaced," she said in a bored tone, staring down at him with what she hoped was a heartless expression.

            "Please. I don't know anything. I swear it." He begged, sweating. "You know how it is- acolytes start bragging, you don't want to look bad. It was just a dumb boast. I didn't see anything."

            Byz wasn't sure who he thought he was going to convince with that obvious lie. "I'm here to _help_."

            "Why should I trust you?" He demanded. "You can't help me. You can't protect me. Even if I did know something, I'd be dead or worse..."

            Well, _that_ was telling. "It sounds like you _do_ know something," she said imperiously, smirking to put him further off his guard.

            "What? No! No! I didn't mean..." Byz watched him with faint amusement as he stuttered. She'd barely even implied torture, mostly had just acted condescending and superior, and he was already breaking. If he'd been a slave he'd be a hollow shell by now. "I've said too much. I can't tell you- he'll kill me."

            Byz sighed with frustration. " _Try_ not to make things worse."

            "I don't understand. Why threaten me with torture? Why not just get it over with?" He asked, eyes wide, pupils flicking back and forth across her face as if seeking the answer there.

            Byz narrowed her eyes at him. "My patience is wearing _thin_ ," she snarled, hoping to push him to the edge.

            "No. You misunderstand. It's just that, any other acolyte would've used the machine by now," he said. "I'll tell you what I saw... but promise me that the murderer will get justice- that he won't come to kill me."

            He looked so terrified that Byz couldn't help but give him a break. "I'll do everything in my power," she promised, and hoped she wouldn't regret it later.

            He chuckled weakly. "As strange as it sounds coming from another acolyte, I appreciate that," he said graciously. "An apprentice named Esorr Kayin— I saw him murder his victim outside the library on the second floor." He looked around, as if expecting hidden observers to materialise from thin air to attack him. "Listen, his master's incredibly powerful— he won't let Kayin be punished. Kayin will kill me."

            "You let me worry about that," Byz assured him.

            "Thank you. I hope you know what you're doing."

 _You and me both,_ thought Byz.

            She walked back to Zyn, who looked very troubled. "You don't have to tell me, I heard the name loud and clear, though I _sorely_ wish I hadn't," he said sourly. "Esorr Kayin."

            The way he said the name, she had a sinking feeling that she wasn't going to like what he said next, and he proved her _very_ correct.

            "Kayin's master is a Dark Council member... I'd be a fool to oppose him." He shook his head. "But anyway, your trial here is done. I will send my commendations to Overseer Harkun. You may return to him now."

            Wait, that was it? Someone committed a crime and he was just going to let him go? "What are you going to do about the murderer?"

            "Nothing," he said simply. "Although the apprentice's master will have to be informed. It's not _my_ business to dispense justice, certainly not where the Dark Council is concerned."

            "If you don't make sure justice is served, he will _die!"_ Byz exclaimed.

            "Concern for matters that are not your business is a weakness that will get you killed," Zyn said with unhidden disapproval. "I suggest you eliminate this undesirable trait as quickly as possible and forget about this acolyte."

            Byz was about to do no such thing. She'd learned quickly that caring about others helped make fast and true friends that could look out for you, and she needed all the help she could get in this world of backstabbing and darkness she had found herself thrust into.  She tried another tactic. "So, you're just going to let yourself be _bullied?"_ Sith always had massive, over-inflated egos. Perhaps an attack on Zyn's would get him to do something.

            "And what would you suggest?" Zyn demanded. "I don't have the power to oppose a Dark Council member and neither do you."

            Byz kept trying. "That's not _fear_ I smell, is it?"

            "Well, I suppose it wouldn't hurt to keep him here while the master of the murdered apprentice pursues justice," Zyn said slowly. "Perhaps they can be made to believe that the acolyte hasn't been broken yet."

            "I don't care what you do, just _do_ it," said Byz with some frustration.

            "Fair enough," he said with a shrug. "I'll requisition some guards to protect him." He looked at her with, shockingly to Byz, an expression of mild amusement. "You have a most unusual approach, acolyte. Watch it doesn't get you into trouble."

 _Too late for that I'm afraid,_ Byz thought as she walked back to Harkun. She'd been neck-deep in trouble ever since the decision to ship her off to get training as a Sith, and whether she was unusual or not she doubted it would get any easier.

            Harkun was already talking as she entered the room. "Well, well, well. I had been looking forward to cutting another one of you down, but it looks like I'll be spared the trouble. Unsurprisingly, Niloc has gone missing." Byz and the other acolytes looked amongst themselves, realising that he was correct. Byz wondered if he'd done what she'd been thinking of and stowed himself away on a ship departing to _anywhere else_. "Also unsurprisngly, Ffon has passed his first trial. It's only a matter of time before he tramples you all underfoot."

            "I'll tear you apart where you stand, slave!" Ffon declared with clenched fist, looking straight at Byz.

 _Why do_ I _keep attracting all the scorn?_ Byz lamented. _Why can't you get your robe in a twist over the beefcake twins?_

            "Patience, Ffon," Harkun counselled the overzealous pureblood, "an accident in the tombs is much more convincing. Now, the lot of you know your next task- go. I want to speak to Ffon and our latecomer." He waited until the other three had filed out of the office before continuing. "Now, slave— Zyn says you handled yourself expertly and as much as I find this difficult to believe, Lord Zash is satisfied with his evaluation."

            Byz was finding it as hard to believe as Harkun. Apparently Zyn wasn't as disappointed as he'd said he was at the lack of torture; or perhaps he just liked results and appreciated them no matter how they were obtained.

            "Undoubtedly, Zyn helped you in some way," _Fuck you, Harkun,_ "but you will not have his help on the next trial. Both you and Ffon will have trials of intellect— trials that test your ability to apply your understand of the Force to solve problems."

            "You don't expect a _slave_ to be a match for me in intellect!" Scoffed Ffon. "I've been trained under the greatest teachers—"

            "Calm down, Ffon," Harkun interrupted, "I certainly do not expect this slave to be a match for you. That's why you will have separate trials."

            Byz curled her lip back. "Truly, your generosity _astounds_."

            "You're only digging your own grave," Harkun said bluntly. He was probably right, but, oh, it was so satisfying to needle him. "Ffon, you will go to the library on the second floor to the Academy and translate the following texts for Lord Zash."

            Byz raised an eyebrow. She failed to see how translating dusty old texts tested Ffon's ability to 'apply his understanding of the Force to solve problems'.

            "Yes, overseer," said Ffon, bowing.

            "Slave, deep in the ancient, monster-infested tomb of Marka Ragnos, there is a holocron filled with dark secrets and encased in a great stone monument," continued Harkun as Ffon left the room. "No one has figured out how to release the holocron from its stone prison in over a thousand years. You will bring this holocron to me, or you will die."

            No pressure or anything. "He, it beats going to the library," she shrugged. " _Yawn._ " She actually loved going to the library, not something she got to do much as a slave, and wished she had more time to visit it.

            "Spoken like the _idiot_ you are," muttered Harkun. "You will bring back the holocron or hope that the spirit of Marka Ragnos himself returns to end your miserable existence. Now go!"

            Byz was only happy to leave.


	5. Are You a Loyal Citizen?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took way too long to write. I've also written at least half while incredibly ill so just point out any horrific spelling/grammar errors in the comments and I'll go fix them... Also I think after Korriban I'm going to cut out uninteresting side quests and just sweep them under a generic "and other things" or something like that. Maybe only include side quests that give morality points.

            As Byz made her way to the taxi that would take her to the lower wilds, she was stopped by a Sith and an Intelligence Officer. "Stand and account for yourself, Acolyte," the Sith demanded, "Let's see what you're made of. I look at you, and I wonder... are you among the truly loyal, or do you hide treason in your heart?"

            Well, _that_ was more than a little insulting. And worrying. "Do you always make a habit of accusing strangers of treachery and sedition?" She asked, frowning.

            "You are no stranger to me. I know everyone in this Academy— even its former slaves," he said easily. "Intelligence reports indicate this valley shelters traitors— acolytes who seek to destroy our Emperor's carefully built order and replace it with their own weak-minded heresies."

            Byz was dubious on how 'orderly' the Empire was if Sith could kill each other with little consequence, and meddle in the affairs of the Military and Imperial Intelligence, but she kept her opinions to herself.

            "They hide among the faithful and obedient, but make no mistake— they will destroy us all, given the chance," the Intelligence Officer added.

            The Sith nodded at her. "We've watched as the traitors scuttle about this valley and plot against us. We know their faces and their names. It is the Emperor's will that the sands of Korriban be slaked with the blood of these traitors." He pointed at her. "Prove your allegiance by executing them."

            _Oh, is that all? Just mindlessly slaughter people on your say so?_ Thought Byz sourly. She didn't need to give them any reason to put _her_ on their lists, however, so she agreed. "It will be a great honor to serve you, my lord," she bowed.

            "And in serving me, you serve the Emperor. Remember that as you exterminate those vermin in the valley."

            "I'll give you the means to identify the traitors," said the Intelligence Officer, "Eliminate enough of them to prove your loyalty, then return to Inquisitor Arzanon."

            "I'll be watching your progress with great interest," said Arzanon, "Go now. See that the Emperor's will be done."

            Byz gave one last bow as she took the device offered by the Intelligence Officer, and set off to identify the supposed traitors to the Empire. She wasn't sure how they'd determined who was guilty or not, but in the end it most likely didn't matter. She wasn't being tested on her ability to think and question— they were seeing if she was a dutiful citizen who followed the orders of her superiors. It didn't annoy her as much as might have someone who'd been born free, but she'd spent her whole life conforming to the ideals of others, so it was just another task to complete.

            She trotted over to where Acolytes were milling about in front of one of the tombs and wondered where to start. She spotted an Acolyte leaning against a wall and started a scan. A red light flickered over the Acolyte, then the device beeped and loudly declared, "Traitor matched to database."

            Byz froze as the Acolyte snapped his head up to see who had so unceremoniously blown his cover, and charged to attack her.

            Nearly tripping over her own feet backing up, she ducked under the swing of his blade and shocked him with the hardest blast of lightning she could muster. She also kicked him in the balls for good measure. He fell to his knees and she swung her blade down across his neck and watched with faint disgust as he collapsed in a bloody heap on the sandy ground. The device beeped, and she looked down at it. A readout stated "1/4 traitors dispatched", and she sighed. One down, three more to go, then.

            On the bright side, she was getting more experience in combat, which could only be considered a good thing. Maybe.

            Once the traitors were killed, she returned to Inquisitor Arzanon and told him the deed was done.

            "I watched you deal with those traitors," he said, "Well done. That was an impressive display of loyalty. Take this reward as a token of the Emperor's favour... and wear this badge. It marks you as a defender of our Empire." Byz accepted the reward graciously. She had not much in the way of money, after all, despite scrounging some credits off the dead bodies of her assailants.

            "Stay vigilant," said the Intelligence Officer, "Our enemies lurk where you least expect them!"

            Byz nodded, and made her way to the taxi terminal. She'd probably end up being yelled at for being late again, as always, because of this. _Oh, well, at least I'm proving my worth to other people. Harkun doesn't matter much if everyone else disagrees with him, right?_

            On the taxi ride down, she watched the landscape pass by and frowned when she saw something shining on a ledge. _What is that?_ She made a mental note to try and find her way there.

            The taxi landed, and on her way out of the enclosed area she was stopped by a fellow Acolyte. "Hey, friend," he greeted her, and Byz wondered how long he'd actually _been_ here to be that friendly. "If you're headed out by the tuk'ata, Lord Varacen is paying actual credits for bone marrow samples! Varacen's doing some sort of experiment for Lord Renning. The less details we know, the better, I'm sure."

            Why not keep that information to himself so he could reap the profits? Byz shook her head. He must've been relatively sheltered. Or maybe he was a legitimately good person. Either way, making money was never a bad thing, and how hard could the tuk'ata be?

            She changed her mind when she actually _saw_ the tuk'ata. They were the same size she was, with armoured-looking skin and large horns that looked perfect for giving her a few extra breathing holes. She would've opted to go around them and forget about the bone marrow samples, but she walked too close to one and gained its attention. With a roar, it charged, and she threw herself out of the way before it could impale her with its horns. Before she could properly rebalance herself, she was knocked over from behind by one of the smaller tuk'ata that had been drawn in by the larger one's roar.

            Byz rolled out of the way of stomping hooves, remembered that she had the ability to channel the Force through her, and sent a blast of power that knocked the tuk'ata away. She trapped one in a swirling vortex, a new skill she'd been taught from the trainer before she left. Another she zapped with lightning, then finished off by slicing open its throat. The rest ended up the same way, and with a grimace she harvested their bone marrow to turn in for credits.

            She turned in the samples to Lord Varacen, who was quite happy with them, and noted a large-bodied Sith behind him. Was that Lord Renning? Whoever he was, he looked incredibly frustrated.

            _Time to increase my network of people who like me,_ thought Byz, and approached him.

            Lord Renning turned as she neared. "A fresh young acolyte, come to view my experiments? Good." Byz repressed a shudder. He looked at her like she was an experiment to be dissected... much like the tuk'ata behind him. "I trust the sight of a messy operating table doesn't disturb you."

            "The path to power is not for the fainthearted," she replied with false bravado.

            "Heh. You remind me of myself at your age," he said, looking into the distance with a fond look, as if remembering some good old days. "This used to be a tuk'ata— the hound-like creatures infesting Korriban's tombs. On the surface, nothing special." _The insides don't look terribly special either, Renning._ "But I alone can see this creature is an expression of pure Dark Side energy— aggression made manifest."

            "Amazing," said Byz, "How did you learn that?"

            "The Force told me so. It speaks to me." _Ah, so you're crazy. Good to know._ "The Force is alive. It expresses its will in the physical world. This tuk'ata was one such form."

            Byz tilted her head to the side. "Are we one such form?"

            "Sith are the highest manifestation of the Force's will. I've dissected hundreds of tuk'ata, forging a direct connection to the Dark Side. Each beast I examine advances me toward perfect unity," he continued with great passion. "I now stand at a new frontier but find myself thwarted. My most perfect specimen— a tuk'ata mutant— escaped to the tombs before I could analyse it."

            "Perhaps I could help recover your specimen," Byz offered.

            "Yes, I was hoping as much. My apprentice Malora saw which tomb the mutant beast fled into. Find out what she knows, assist me, and you will be rewarded."

            Byz frowned. "Why not send your apprentice to recover this beast?"

            "She is more suited to the laboratory than the tombs," he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "She lacks your fire, I'm afraid. Ask Malora where to seek the tuk'ata and return to me when you have its brain. "

            Byz trotted over to Malora, who looked like she'd overheard the conversation and incredibly displeased about it. "Seeking Lord Renning's lost pet, are you?" She all but sneered. "Don't waste your time. That fool's research is pointless."

            "Not a very loyal apprentice, are you?" she replied dryly.

            "He's my master in title only. He has nothing to teach _anyone_ about the dark side of the force," Malora scoffed. "Renning deludes the Dark Council into believing he's advancing Sith knowledge. The truth is he wastes the Empire's time and resources dissecting mindless animals. But, if his experiments were discredited, he would be banished— and I would be rewarded."

            "You're just scheming to get rid of your master," Byz pointed out, not fooled by Malora's pretty speech.

            "I have a greater destiny than serving as a research assistant in this pathetic excuse for a laboratory!" She snapped. "Look, just a minor alteration to the mutant tuk'ata's brain would allow me to reveal my master as a fraud." _Which means that he's not a fraud, and you're hindering important research._ "Bring me the brain before delivering it to Lord Renning, and I'll make it worth your while."

            "Betraying your master carries considerable risk," said Byz. _For you and me both._

            "The greater the risk, the greater the reward— for both of us," she said. "The mutant tuk'ata escaped to the tomb of Marka Ragnos. It's much larger than the others, so it's easy to spot. Return to me with the brain _before_ you see Lord Renning, and I'll take care of the rest."

            Like she'd risk pissing off a Sith Lord. Byz had no intention of doing anything that Malora asked. She made her way to the tomb of Marka Ragnos.


	6. The Tomb of Marka Ragnos

            Byz was of the opinion that Korriban would be a lot more tolerable if it wasn't mostly a desert wasteland, and if she could wear something other than the _black_ , thick robes that had been given to her. She had force lightning, why not learn how to conjure up water? It couldn't be all that hard...

            Stomping her way across the barren ground, she spotted a holopad lying next to a skeleton. It was not the first skeleton she'd seen on Korriban, and probably not the last, either. She bent down and dusted off the holopad, wondering if it had belonged to the skeleton, or if it had just been dropped there. _Might as well see what this is about..._ she thought, and pressed the play button.

            A holographic image fluttered to life, showing a thin man wearing military gear. "Sergeant Garus— turns out the rumours were true. Some of the sentries we lost down here aren't dead... they lost their minds, just like the acolytes," the flickering hologram said. _Oh, joy._ "Doesn't mean we're gonna have any easier a time getting the research supplies back, though. The crates are secured with multilocks. If we're going to open these things without frying the contents, we'll need to get all the sentries' code cylinders back."

            Byz looked at the crates the holopad and skeleton were next to. _I suppose he is talking about these, then?_

            "I don't think negotiation is an option. The men aren't keen to take down their old comrades, but we'll do what we can," the hologram continued, "Once we have the code cylinders, we'll crack open the supply crates and get back. Tavon out."

            "My guess is this poor skeleton is this Tavon fellow," Byz mused allowed. "I don't imagine a soldier just leaving a holopad around..." Well, if it were on the way, it wouldn't be too difficult to do this for the military, earn more respect and favours, perhaps. At the very least she might get some credits out of it, something she sorely needed.

            Stretching her arms about, Byz readied herself for the battle that was sure to await her on the way to the tombs.

\---

            Covered in sweat, blood, and sand, Byz blasted the last soldier standing in her way to the tombs into the wall, watching dispassionately as his form crumpled to the ground, unmoving. She was beginning to hate Korriban, even more than she had before. That no one seemed at all bothered by all the insane soldiers running about, let alone thinking of a solution to it, was appalling to her. Acolytes had enough on their plates without all _this_ nonsense.

            It's not that it was terribly difficult, just irritating. Even taking down the tuk'ata, mutant though it might have been, wasn't a strain on her abilities. It was beginning to feel like obstacles thrown in her path to slow her down. Perhaps that was the point— frustration and all that made Sith stronger.

            Byz peered into the dark hallways of the tomb. It looked to be filled with failed Acolytes ready to tear her to pieces. _Yay_.

            It didn't take too long to clear a bloody path to the room that housed the holocron. There were a few shyrack's flying about, but a few shots of lightning took care of them. There was some modern construction leading up to the monument that contained the holocron, and Byz quickly ascended, her footsteps ringing out and echoing in the enclosed chamber.

            She inspected the monument, wondering if there was perhaps a hidden catch or some sort of sliding block puzzle lock, but after a few minutes she began to realise that it would hardly be as simple as that. She scratched her head, thinking. _What would I do to keep this thing safe?_ That wasn't really helpful— _she_ would have opted to either keep it on her person at all times or bury it several feet below solid concrete.

            Perhaps the Sith Code? "Peace is a lie, there is only passion..." she began, before she was cut off by a rumbling as the monument shuddered, quickly followed by a menagerie of beasts rushing in, hungry for blood. "Oh for—" she bit off, unsheathing her vibrosword.

            She didn't even have to use any lightning against the mindless beasts, but now she was even more annoyed than she was before.

            Byz glared at the monument. "Perhaps a little blood will satiate you," she said, letting blood from a gash on her hand drip onto it.

            Of course, nothing happened.

            She growled with frustration and yelled, "Just _open_ , _damn_ it!" Letting loose a violent stream of lightning at the glowing monument. With one last shudder, the monument opened to reveal the holocron. Byz's mouth dropped open. "Are you _shitting me_ right now?!" _This_ was the answer to a puzzle that had eluded the Sith Lords for a thousand years?

            Muttering to herself, she grabbed the holocron and stomped her way out of the temple, barely remembering to grab the tuk'ata brain she'd stashed under some rocks. She'd also gotten the cylinder codes that were scattered around, and stopped by the crates to empty them of their supplies before handing over the brain to Lord Renning.

            "I'm running out of patience," he said to her, barely looking up from his work. "Have you finally acquired the mutant tuk'ata brain, or should I send someone else?"

            _Whatever, asshole, it's not like I have other things to do right now_ , Byz inwardly seethed. "I got what you wanted," was what she actually said.

            "Ah, ha! Wonderful! Let me see it!"

            She handed it over to him. "I'm sure you'll find it satisfactory," she assured him.

            "Look at the mottling along the frontal lobe! I can't wait to analyze this," Lord Renning almost gushed. At least he was passionate about his work. "You've done me a great service, but now I must continue my research. If there's nothing else..."

            For a brief moment, Byz thought of telling Lord Renning about his apprentice's disloyalty. It could curry her favour, after all, but... "Just my compensation," she said.

            "Yes, of course, take your payment and leave me to my work," he said dismissively, giving her the credits.

            "I can find you a heart or a liver if you need one," Byz offered.

            "Go now, young acolyte. May the dark side make you forever strong," Lord Renning said, waving her off before turning back to his make-shift laboratory.

            Dismissed, Byz made her way to the shuttle that would take her back to the Academy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm currently sitting on the fleet (which should tell you how much of a backlog of video to jot down I have...) agonising over the choice between sith sorcerer and sith assassin. I like both for different reasons and both would fit Byz for different reasons, so if this story gets to the fleet and then never updates again just assume I exploded from indecision or something.


	7. Trial of Blood

            Byz watched the landscape roll underneath her as the shuttle carried her back to the Academy, lost in thought.  Had she done the right thing, not telling Lord Renning about Malora's attempted treachery? Would it be discovered anyways, and then she would be branded a traitor and executed, or worse— returned to slavery? She tapped her fingers on the side of the shuttle. There really was no use worrying about it now. What was done was done, and she had more important things to worry about, like Harkun and Ffon and how to beat them at their game.

            Arriving at the Academy, she was startled to see that there was a message waiting for her in the mailbox. It read "Close One", sent by an Acolyte Alif. Who was that? She tapped the message open.

            _"I thought I was a dead man after I testified against Essor Kayin. Not many acolytes can rat out a Dark Council member's apprentice and live to tell about it. But I'm still breathing. I figure I have you to thank for that._

_I don't know what you said to Inquisitor Zyn, but it worked. He helped me lie low in the Academy until he could ship me off to Dromund Kaas. Now I'm apprenticing to some crotchety old Darth (sorry, no names!). She's a tyrant, but at least she's not trying to kill me. Yet._

_Anyway, I owe you one."_

            Attached to the message were some credits, but Byz barely noticed as she re-read the message. The Acolyte she'd been sent to torture for information was still alive, then. A feeling Byz couldn't quite name welled up in her chest. Relief? Thankfulness? Whatever it was, she was glad that at least _someone_ had been given a chance to escape the fate that awaited so many Acolytes here.

            Handing off the supplies to one of the soldiers— she never got his name— she went back into the cool confines of the Academy with more than a little relief. _Assuming I survive this, I do hope that I'll be taken off this wretched desert planet_ , Byz thought to herself and she padded down the halls. Of course, she was the last one to arrive.

            "You better not be wasting my time, slave," Harkun sneered, "You better have the holocron." Byz wordlessly handed him the holocron. "Hm. A fake, or stolen from the library, probably." _May k'lor'slugs feast on your face and lay eggs in your bowels, Harkun!_ "I'll deal with you later. Now— I believe it's time for another demonstration. Gerr, step forward."

            "Yes, overseer."

            Barely even looking at Gerr, Harkun said, "Ffon, kill him."

            "With pleasure, overseer," Ffon said with barely contained glee, and cut Gerr down even as the poor man tried to run away.

            "Let Gerr be an example to you," Harkun snarled at the other Acolytes. "Ffon destroyed him easily, like he will destroy all of you. Are there any other objections?"

            Byz pulled a lip back. "You are only giving us _power_ , Harkun."

            "And your comments are only hastening your death, slave," Harkun scowled. "Now, the rest of you know the next trial. Go. You, slave— stay here."

            Byz watched the rest of the Acolytes file out, holding her hands behind her back. She would remember every death here. They were all unfortunate, needless, but Harkun taking them out like this just made her chances that much greater... and she hated herself for the thought. _I must survive_.

            "Now, slave," said Harkun as the last Acolyte disappeared down the hall, "you think yourself pretty clever getting that holocron, don't you?"

            She rolled her eyes. "Stop with your taunts, and give me my next trial."

            "If you wish to prolong your life, you will not make demands of me again, _slave_ ," Harkun said with a sneer. "Now, for your trial: the last, darkest secrets of Tulak Hord are buried in his tomb. Lord Zash wants this text. But the final resting place of the dead lord is not easily trespassed. You will not be the first to die there."

            "Yes, I get it already," Byz said dismissively. "You send me into a tomb to do the impossible, hoping I die, and I come back and prove you wrong."

            "Shut up, slave!" Harkun roared. "I've had about enough of your mockery!" _Well, that makes two of us._ "Do not come back here until you've gotten the text from Tulak Hord's tomb. Out of my sight, slave!"

            Byz was smart enough to not needle the Overseer further. She bowed her head, slightly— not respect, just indicating she understood her orders— and made her way back to the entrance of the Academy.

            Just as she was heading out the entrance, she was stopped by one of the inquisitors. "I have need of you, young one," the inquisitor said, stopping Byz with a touch on the arm. "Whatever errand your master sent you on can wait until we are through."

            Byz suppressed a sigh. It was always like this, wasn't it? Perpetually late, she would be. Maybe she would give Harkun some false hope for her death. Still, it was annoying. "What gives you the right to command me?" She asked testily. _So unlike a former slave already, Byz..._

            "I am Inquisitor Urinth, and I represent the Intelligence operations of the Sith," she explained. "We are currently holding an important Jedi prisoner. A spy who attempted to reach this Academy. We have plans for him. Upon capture, we found the Jedi's mind simple to manipulate. We fed him false memories through a combination of drugs and sorcery. Soon, he will return to his Jedi commanders and report the lies we fed him. He will know nothing of what we've done. All that remains is to stage his escape."

            "How do you propose to do that?" Byz asked, frowning. It seemed an awfully complicated plan for little gain. What if the Jedi were able to discover the deception? Seemed like it would be a better plan to just kill him and be done with it— another Jedi lost to space, final resting place unknown.

            "You are young enough, new enough, to be a plausible traitor. You will go to the Jedi. Talk to him. Do as he asks, earn his trust," Urinth explained. "When that is done, set him free. Do whatever is necessary to get him out of prison. We will ensure that he reaches his ship and returns safely to his Jedi friends."

            Byz narrowed her eyes. _And wouldn't Harkun just love to discover me as a traitor to the Empire?_ "How do I know you won't accuse me of treason?"

            "Prove your strength— prove that you are truly Sith— and all the accusations in the world will mean nothing," she said. _Easy for you to say, safe behind your plots_ _— who cares about the 'strength' of one easily replaced Acolyte?_ "You will find the Jedi Quorian Dorjis in the jail cells. He is still confused and should not be overly difficult to convince."

            Byz bowed her head, and started to set off towards the jails, but nearly tripped over another Sith Lord meditating in front of the monument in the main hall. As she stammered out an apology, the red-skinned Sith stood slowly to turn and face her.

            "So. Yet another acolyte stands in the shadow of our Academy," he looked her up and down. "You must consider yourself privileged." _Not really._ "Tell me, you who would be Sith— have you seen much of our civilisation so far? Have you been awed by this world's power and glory?"

            _I think it's a barren wasteland of psychopathic murderers and I would give anything to get off of it as soon as humanely possible._ "I'm only a student here," Byz said respectfully, "It's not my place to judge."

            "No," the Sith agreed, "It is _mine._ Korriban was wrought by the true-blooded Sith millennia ago— our ancestors, a crimson race of conquerors, raised the statues around us. Over the eons, however, our people mingled with slaves. Now, the red markings of true Sith are rare— and the purity of this planet is in question."

            Oh, he was one of _those_ people. She ran across them a lot, probably because they saw her skin and thought she believed the same as them. Always funny when they realised she was a slave and considered lesser than anyone. "You're mingling with a former slave right now," she told him in a dry tone, unable to suppress a gleeful smirk at his expense.

            "Is that so? This is a sad day," he said, actually sounding somewhat mournful. Asshole. "But you may yet be useful. True purity and strength are carried in the blood. I worry that our blood is being diluted over generations. In the Emperor's name, I've come to learn whether the Academy's overseers are Sith— or not. You will be my instrument."

            Byz snorted. "Who are you to judge whether Sith are pure or inferior?" _I'm fairly certain that the Emperor is a human man, no? Why would he care about pure-blooded Sith?_

"As an agent of the Emperor and the Dark Council. I will report to them, and if necessary, see ways to restore hereditary supremacy. I possess an ancient device— a holocron— that can read and record bloodlines. It will pulse with life near the overseers. Allow the holocron to fulfill its purpose— stand near the overseers as it attunes to their blood purity. Then return here, and I will learn the truth," he said, handing her the holocron.

            Byz looked at it dubiously. She really didn't care, but it could kill time and earn her a few more credits. She pocketed the holocron and made her way to the jails, wondering what a Jedi would be like. She'd heard all sorts of stories about them, but of course had never seen one in person.

            She walked into the jails, looking around for the Jedi, and spotted him in one of the cells, kneeling behind the force field walls and muttering to himself.

            "There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. The Jedi Code will guide me..." she heard as she walked up to the cells, and realised that the Jedi Code was an awful lot like the Sith Code.

            "I take it you're the Jedi who was captured?" Byz asked, peering down at the man. He didn't look like much, did he?

            "I am Quorian Dorjis. I am a Jedi— even here. Even on Korriban," he frowned, standing. "Why do you care? Why are you here?"

            Well, time to start putting on the act of the subversive acolyte then. "No one should have to suffer like that," she replied. It wasn't a lie.

            "You mean that. A Sith with a conscience. You're here to help me..." He shook his head. "Why am I talking in circles? What's wrong with me?"

            "You need to calm down," Byz soothed. No need to tell him about the Inquisitors messing with his brain, it would only make the mission less likely to succeed.

            "You're right... I apologise." He breathed in, closing his eyes, and recited the Jedi code again. "There is no passion, there is serenity. There is no chaos, there is harmony. The Jedi Code will guide me." Yes, _definitely_ like the Sith Code. Byz wondered if the Sith had copied it as a final 'screw you' to the Jedi. "I can focus. If you want to help me escape, I'll need my belongings: my lightsaber, my comlink. Before I was captured, the Sith chased me into the tomb of Tulak Hord. I hid my belongings inside an urn to lighten my load; that is where you'll need to go."

            How convenient. She could fetch his supplies while doing the task assigned to her by Harkun. Perhaps she wouldn't be so late this time, although that was probably wishful thinking on her part. She might as well run around scanning overseers, too. Too bad Harkun wasn't one of them; she might be able to get a laugh if he turned out impure.

            One of the Overseers, named Regate, actually deigned to notice her existence and had an interesting proposition for her.

            "Come here, child. Do you intend to explore the Academy? To know the world that gave birth to the Sith?" She asked, as Byz quickly stuffed the holocron back into her pocket, hoping she hadn't noticed. "You should linger here awhile. I am Overseer Ragate, a keeper of the old ways. I sense you have potential— and I can help you, if you like."

            "Everyone in the Academy seems to sene my 'potential'," mused Byz. Well, except for Harkun and co.

            "But you have not yet come into your own," Ragate continued, "You have power and strength in the Force, but you must be tested beyond the trials your masters have set for you." _Why? They're already straining my abilities as it is, while Ffon gets off easy._ "I administer the rite of blood and bone— a ritual performed beyond this doorway. It is a rite acolytes have participated in for ten thousand years."

            Byz, her mouth running faster than her brain, said, "I'm sure you were young and pretty back then." And then mentally kicked herself for being such an idiot.

            Overseer Ragate was less than impressed. "Yes, I am shriveled. I am infirm. Yet I survive— more than most Sith can say. Learn from my example," she snapped, and Byz scuffed her feet on the floor, chastened. "In the chambers past the gateway, there is a colony of shyracks— my leather-winged, razor-taloned children and their brood. They guard a mountain of skulls— an altar to the Academy's failures. You must reach the bones before proceeding."

            Byz grimaced. This sounded more like something for primitive alien species living in isolated systems, not an advanced civilisation like the Sith Empire. "And once I reach the bones..?"

            "You must claim a skull from the mountain and return to the antechamber. Soak the skull in the blood pool and come to me," Ragate said. "Once bone has turned red, I will look and see your nature written in crimson stains. And possibly a glimpse of your future."

            "I'll admit, that does sound intriguing..."

            "To complete the rite is to accept one's death— to steal one's own mortality and drown it in the fluid of life. That is the symbolic purpose," Ragate explained. "But it is also a trial of power, as are all Sith trials— a trial to test strength and to grant it. I will await you here. If you die, I will forget you."

            How cheery. Byz looked towards the ritual chamber. Well, it didn't sound so difficult, did it? Go in, smack some shyracks, dunk a skull in blood, in and out in a few minutes... might as well, right? If Ragate _could_ see the future, she might be able to offer some insight into Byz's future course of action.

            Byz walked into the chamber, unsheathing her vibrosword and readying a hand for Force manipulation. The pool of blood was directly before her, and she could see the stairway leading up to the altar of skulls not far beyond.

            It was quick work to dispatch the shyracks, slashing and throwing lightning at the winged creatures on her way to the skulls, and in no time at all she was picking one up and bringing it back to the pool of blood.

            Byz dipped the skull into the blood pool... and jumped back in surprise when the room began rumbling, which was all that saved her when a giant k'lor'slug burst forth from the blood, spraying the red liquid everywhere and nearly knocking her onto her ass.

            "What the—" she was cut off as the k'lor'slug surged toward her, and she barely managed to dive out of the way. This wasn't part of Ragate's explanation at all!

            The giant k'lor'slug screamed at her, and she readied her vibroblade for its attack. As it lunged forward, she jumped back again, and scorched its side as it passed with a burst of lightning. It didn't seem to do a whole lot other than make the beast angry, as it turned and slammed into her, knocking her over and shoving all of the air out of her lungs.

            Byz wheezed as she rolled back onto her feet, slashing the blade and following up with a stronger burst of lightning, stunning the creature as she wailed on it with a series of blows, throwing herself back as it shuddered back into mobility and lunged at her again.

            "Just... fucking... _die_ already!" She hissed, throwing streams of lightning at the creature.

            It screamed back at her, slicing across her arm with one of its sharp limbs, and Byz responded by slicing the limb off with the blade and throwing even more lightning at it. As it reared again for another strike, Byz thrust upward with her sword, slicing into it's... neck... and shoving the blade up and into its cranial cavity, killing the beast.

            As it slumped to the ground, she jerked the sword out of its flesh and shook off the gore, breathing heavily. She really should have suspected that things wouldn't be as easy as explained when Ragate mentioned her possible _death_.

            With a sigh, Byz went back to Overseer Ragate.

            "I heard the screams of the shyracks and the rippling of the blood pool. I heard the sounds of deaths," Ragate said to Byz as she approached. "I know you brought the red-stained skull— and I must say, I am pleased."

            "I completed the rite, then?" Byz asked, hoping there wasn't even _more_ that Ragate had left unsaid.

            "As so many Dark Lords have before you," she said. "The skull you carry— your rage, your actions drowned it with the dark side. It is a part of you. I can read it. I can offer a small gift— but more than that, I can offer a glimpse of your destiny. There's much I can read in the bones."

            "Who am I to turn down free advice?"

            "Very well. Listen carefully," said Ragate, as she examined the skull. "When your final trial comes, beware the shadow-killer. It can be bound but never controlled."

            Byz blinked. "What's a... 'shadow-killer'?"

            "That is all I can see for certain. I can say no more," Ragate replied, "Prize what you have accomplished here. You are part of a tradition almost as old as Korriban itself... and you have done well. Goodbye now, young Sith. This lesson is complete."

            Byz sighed and walked slowly towards the entrance of the Academy. That was next to useless, despite all the effort expended to get that advice. Perhaps, once her final trial came, she would understand better. At the very least, she knew she would actually _reach_ the final trial. Byz frowned. Or perhaps Ragate just meant the last trial she would have, period— maybe she was doomed to die by this "shadow-killer" and the glimpse of the future was to help her avoid it... or perhaps come to terms with her inevitable demise?

            Byz shook her head. There was no use dwelling on it. If she were to understand, she would understand, and she wouldn't be scared off completing her trials. She would _survive_ , and she would show all the people scoffing at her former slave status what she was made of— prove Ragate's words _right_.

            Confidence in herself bolstered, Byz stepped back into the blazing sun of Korriban.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Want to know a secret? I actually completed "The Blood Legacy" just before completing the final class mission on Korriban. I always have a very hard time with the Bloodfiend for some reason so I just waited until I had Khem Val and murdered it. But for the sake of story...


	8. The Tomb of Tulak Hord

            As Byz ran around Korriban scanning the Overseers, she came across a terminal by the off world shuttle that was broadcasting a sort of bounty to take down a Lord Sundar. Looking at the information, she frowned at the difficulty of it. Perhaps she could save that for later... or never.

            An equally unappealing potential quest popped up on her way to the tomb of Tulak Hord, offered by a strange man.

            "Come closer, acolyte!" He called to her as she descended the steps. "The wind outside has torn my ears to tatters, and my eyes grow strained and bloody in the dark." Byz padded over, wary. "I've studied this tomb for years— slept on its stones and dreamed of its depths. Now, I need assistance to solve its final mystery."

            "Really?" Asked Byz, "So are you mad or just obsessed?"

            "Why should my sanity matter to you?" The strange man returned. "This tomb is the final resting place of Tulak Hord. The tomb's maze was built to his precise specifications. But he built his maze to hold more than just his body. He built it to secure his greatest creation— his terrible machine. The Red Engine."

            Byz tilted her head, frowning. She'd heard nothing of any of this. One would think that something that important would be scrabbled all over by the competing Sith Lords.  "Keep going. What 'Red Engine'?"

            "The machine was his life's work— a perfect puzzle that hid all his secrets. It was a vault and a library all at once," he explained. "The scholars in the Academy— they say the Red Engine was never completed. They say it never functioned. But I know how it works, and I know how to fuel it."

            "Then why not inform the scholars?"

            "They think that I— not a Sith, nor an educated man— couldn't discover the truth. They ignore my findings and are blinded by arrogance," the man raged, and Byz couldn't say that she was at all surprised. The Sith Lords couldn't even respect _each other_ most of the time, so why would they respect some guy? "Listen, now. Anyone can activate the Red Engine— but unless it receives its sacrifice, it will only sputter and die. The machine needs blood and hatred to become fully operational. If a Sith could slay the tomb's beasts in its presence, their deaths would be its fuel."

            Byz grimaced. This sounded an awful lot like something that was liable to get her killed.

            "Find the machine within the tomb," the man urged. "work its mechanisms. And when at last it reveals Tulak Hord's secrets, I beg of you— bring me its scripture. Bring me the knowledge I have dreamed of."

            Byz nodded slowly, taking off to the depths of the tombs as he turned away. He was _crazy_ , there was no possible way for what he said to be true. Someone would have _had_ to have discovered this if it was true already. _So what about that holocron that was unable to be retrieved until you went after it?_ Came a niggling little thought.

            Byz continued her trek through the tomb, picking up a holopad that had belonged to an apprentice... off the corpse of said apprentice. She'd been tasked to take out the mining droids that the rebelling slaves had reappropriated of to defend themselves. Byz was more inclined to let the slaves have them, except that _she_ was a target now, now that she was a Sith. Or close enough to being one, anyways. And they _were_ in the way of her task.

            "Why must this be so difficult?" She asked the stone walls. Of course, she got no response. She sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. This was turning out to be an incredibly long day, barely having a chance to breathe before being sent out to do this thing or that thing, tripping over missions and completing them in the hopes she'd gain some extra clout and coin to help her reach her goal.

            She stopped in the middle of copying down one of the tablets. What _was_ her goal, really? Besides beating Harkun and Ffon and becoming Zash's apprentice... what did she want to _do_? Assuming she was successful and survived, she had so many more options open to her than she had even the day before. Once her apprenticeship was over, she could do anything— _be_ anything. Perhaps once she had enough political clout she could try and introduce laws to protect slaves... perhaps take a page from the Republic's book and ban slavery entirely.

            Byz snorted. As if that would ever happen. The Empire was so dependent on slavery that it would collapse if you took that away. She'd just have to be content with being free herself, and perhaps discreetly free a slave compound or two here and there.

            Byz spent the next hour running around the tombs, fighting rebel slaves and militiamen while copying the stone tablets required for her trial. She had to admit that the chaos of Korriban was helping her improve her combat ability— something that could not be said about Ffon, sitting around all safe in libraries and what have you. He may have had more training than she did, but she probably had far more actual combat experience. She was fairly confident that when things came to a head, she would be able to come out on top.

            Unless Harkun and Ffon cheated, which was very likely.

            Once Byz had completed her trial, and retrieved the Jedi's belongings, she quickly made her way back to the Academy, sneaking around the crazy man at the entrance of the tomb so he wouldn't notice that she hadn't done what he'd asked.

            Before she went to the jails, she gave the holocron back to the Sith Lord obsessed with racial purity.

            "Step forward," he said to her as she approached. "I assume you have completed my task; I will take the holocron now."

            Byz was more than happy to hand the thing over, eager to finish with her tasks and get back to Harkun.

            "It is time we judged the purity of your overseers' blood— time we know how much o the ancients survive in their veins," he continued, and Byz had to suppress the urge to roll her eyes.

            "Whatever you say," she sighed.

            "You make a mockery of the source of your power," he said disapprovingly, "Pathetic." He looked at the holocron. "The holocron— it glows white. So little Sith blood in all of the Academy… and only one of the overseers wears the red marks. This is shameful. I will bring this to the attention of the Dark Council; measures must be taken if the true Sith are to survive."

            "Sith blood may disappear," said Byz, "but Sith teachings _will_ endure."

            "They are one and the same," he replied, "You have served well. It is too late for me to alter your training— but in the future, perhaps acolytes will kneel at the feet of the pure-blooded."

            _I highly doubt that,_ Byz thought to herself as she padded away. _Things are so desperate that even lowly slaves such as I have been given the chance for greatness…_

            The next stop was Quorian Dorjis in the jails, to return his things. She tapped on the metal parts of his cage to gain his attention.

            He looked up. "I know you. We talked before. My head's clearer now, Sith," he said as he rose.

            Byz briefly turned the force field off to hand him his things, then turned it back on again and hoped nobody had been paying attention— or that those who were knew what she was up to.

            "It's all here— the comlink, my lightsaber— everything I hid," he said as he went through it. "You're going through with it. With all this… once the guards change shifts, I think I can slip out of the Academy. But what about you— will you be okay?"

            Byz felt a pang in her chest. _Someone cares._ "Me? I'll be fine," she assured him. "I'm more worried about you."

            "That's… very kind of you, Sith. "I still don't understand why you're doing this, but I thank you."

            Byz almost told him. She hesitated a moment— it would be so easy, and how could the Inquisitors be able to know once he was far away in Republic space? This man, who despite being on the other side, from a different culture and ethics, _cared_ about her fate…

            And then she remembered Inquisitor Arzanon, and Imperial Intelligence, watching and combing out traitors and heretics, and the truth died on her tongue.

            "If everything's settled, I'll be leaving," she said to him instead, feeling something inside her break.

            "As you say, Sith. Thank you again," he said, "I'm… I'm sorry the Empire took you in, instead of the Jedi. If things had been different, maybe you could've been part of the order."

            He knelt back down, to meditate until his escape, and she rushed out of the room. She should go back to the Inquisitor, to tell her job well done, but Byz wasn't entirely sure _where_ she was going, just that she needed to be away from… everything.

            After a mindless few minutes of wandering, she found a deserted, dark room, and in a corner behind some forgotten furniture, she dropped to the ground, gathered her legs up to her chest, and cried.

            For the Jedi, whose mind had been altered and played with by the Inquisitors.

            For her fellow Acolytes, abused and beaten and twisted until they died or became monsters like their Masters.

            For the countless slaves whose bones rested beneath the sands and in the garbage heaps of the planet and across the Galaxy.

            And finally, for herself— the miserable slave, shown kindness by the one person she couldn't afford it from, and who'd repaid that kindness with a lie.


	9. Meeting Lord Zash

            Byz woke with a start, in the dark, unsure of where she was. Her head was pounding and her eyes felt like someone had replaced them with pillows, and she slowly remembered her retreat to a safe place to cry. At some point, she must have fallen asleep.

            _Wait... how long has it been?_ Byz scrambled to her feet, putting a hand to her aching head. There was the very real possibility that everyone had written her off as dead or a runaway, and she would be completely screwed out of getting off of the hellhole that was Korriban. She didn't even know what the time had been when she'd stumbled into this room, so even finding out what the current time was wouldn't help.

            She sighed. It would be best to continue on her way and hope it hadn't been too long. She looked around for a reflective surface of some kind, and was happy enough to find a mirror. She was less happy when she saw her face, and grimaced. She looked like she hadn't slept in a week and her eyes were rather puffy. Well, people usually didn't look too closely at her face once they noticed her scar, and as it took up half her face, it was usually the first thing people noticed after the purply-red skin. Might as well head on down and give the good news to the Inquisitor.

            It took a few minutes for Byz to get her bearings, but eventually she found her way to the main entrance hall, and she was starting to feel slightly less groggy and the pounding had started to recede as she approached the Inquisitor.

            "So, the Jedi is preparing his escape," the Inquisitor said approvingly. "You did well. Not perfectly, but I have confidence the operation will succeed. Our business is concluded. I will make note of your assistance in my report."

            Byz hesitated. "What about the Jedi? Will he be safe?"

            "No Jedi is safe," the Inquisitor said," Sooner or later, the Empire will destroy the order entirely. Take these tokens as payment for your service— and know that no Jedi can threaten Korriban. Now, go."

            Byz left, mind still on the Jedi as she went to turn in the news of the rebelling slaves and their now-destroyed droids to another Inquisitor. _This is probably a treasonous, traitorous thought, but... I do hope he'll be okay._

            As she made her way down the hall towards Harkun's office, she was stopped by a blonde-haired Sith leaning against the wall.

            "Yes— yes. Remarkable. Magnificent," she said, stepping forward to look. "You— you, slave. Wait— no, acolyte," she continued as Byz bristled. "You're the one who brought me this magnificent holocron from the tomb of Marka Ragnos, yes?"

            _Oh, blast, this is Lord Zash!_ "Yes, my lord. I found the holocron," Byz replied with proper deference.

            "Unbelievable," Zash said breathlessly. "One thousand years, buried in that tomb. Sith Lords passing it by. And then— the most unlikely person comes along. Tell me... how did you manage it?"

            Byz thought of lying, of talking herself up, but she didn't want to keep up a lie and start off on the wrong footing with her potential future master. "I shot lightning at it, and it opened." Honestly, that sounded even less likely than an elaborate ritual. Oh well.

            "Such a simple solution... why did none of us think of that?" Zash seemed to agree on that front. "We must have thought too deeply on it, believed too strongly that it could not be done. Or perhaps we were simply not meant to open it." Byz wasn't terribly comfortable with the idea that she was _fated_. "Your work so far— in bringing back this holocron and now the text from Tulak Hord's tomb— has me intrigued. I am watching your progress eagerly. I have high hopes for you, acolyte. Sky high."

            _Oh my stars._ "Really? Harkun seems to favour Ffon," said Byz.

            "Harkun's only purpose is to weed out the weak," Zash said dismissively, "Beyond that, his opinion means nothing." Well, she _was_ a Sith Lord, it was to be expected she would have the attitude of looking down at her fellows. "Good luck, acolyte," she said before she left. "Good luck."

            Byz watched Lord Zash leave, then let out a harsh breath. Lord Zash _liked_ her! Well, she was almost _guaranteed_ to win now, wasn't she? With elation, she walked the rest of the way to Harkun's office.

            The first thing she noticed was that the only people there were Harkun and Ffon. Of the remaining Acolytes, there was nothing to be seen of them. The second thing she noticed was of course Harkun's constant disapproving glower.

            "I was just about to send Ffon off," he said, "What delayed you, slave?"

            Well, she wasn't going to tell him the _real_ reason. And she didn't think it would be terribly smart to mention Zash at this point, either. "I like to stop and smell the blood," she said with easy dismissal.

            "You'll be smelling your own blood soon," Harkun said flatly. "Now, did you collect the text from Tulak Hord's tomb?"

            "Of course," said Byz cheerily as she handed over the text, "As always, I'm brilliant."

            "Give it here," he snarled, almost snatching it from her hands. "No doubt it's been badly damaged. It's what we get for sending a careless lowlife to do a Sith's job— isn't that right, Ffon?"

            "What are we waiting for, overseer?" Ffon growled. "Why don't we kill this wretch _now_?"

            _I'd like to see you try,_ thought Byz, glaring at him.

            "You have a big mouth, slave, but no combat skills," said Harkun, "I don't want to see you again until you've satisfied the Korriban instructors. The training facility is on the second floor of the Academy and is usually reserved for the Dark Lords and their apprentices. This is _not_ a promotion, and you are not to speak to _anyone_ except the training master when you are up there, understand? You are not fit for their presence."

            Byz resisted the urge to snort derisively. "Please tell me Ffon can come? We'll have _so_ much fun," she said cheerily, glancing over at Ffon. _What with you being stuck in libraries all day, I think I could give you a run for your money by this point_.

            "Ffon has been training at combat his whole life. He was born to be Sith," said Harkun. "You are just as likely to chop your own arm off as not, _slave_. Now get to the second floor training grounds. You don't want to keep the instructors waiting."

            Byz gave him a sloppy salute, infuriating him, then scampered off to the second floor for her supposed combat training. She was rather worried about it, however— clearly they were getting to the end of the trials, why would he bother giving her extra training _now_ , and potentially giving her an edge?

            She walked into the training room, then stopped. She looked around, frowning, as she realised that there was no one there.

            From behind her— "Hello there, friend."

            Byz quickly turned, and there were the remaining two Acolytes that had been missing from the little chat with Harkun, and her heart sank.

            "You remember my brother and me from downstairs— with Harkun, right?" He continued.

            "Sorry it had to be this way," said the other one.

            "We don't like it any more than you do. Well— maybe a little more."

            "Now, now— you really don't know whether I like this or not," said Byz with a bravado that she didn't feel.

            "I'm sorry girl, I liked you, I really did," said the second of the brothers.

            "But Harkun made us a deal, see," the first continued, "We kill you, we go home."

            "Come on, do we have to do this?" said Byz, all but pleading. "I thought we were friends."

            "We don't _want_ to," said the second brother. "But, we know we can't beat Ffon, and we'll never be Sith. At least this way, we can go home— alive."

            _Even if you could succeed, Harkun would never let you leave, you have to realise that,_ Byz thought, but the first brother spoke up before she could say anything.

            "Quiet, Balek. The time for talk is past." He turned to her. "Fight for your life... Acolyte."

            Of all of Byz's battles, this one would go down as one of her worst. Even with the two-to-one odds, the two brothers never stood a chance against her, and she had to endure their screams of pain and death as she struck them down to secure her own life.

            She looked down at their now-still bodies, numb except for a quiet, cold rage forming deep inside. One day— _one day_ , she would make Harkun regret _everything_ he'd done here, all the needless death he'd cause.

            Byz stomped back to Harkun's office, wondering how he'd react to her still being alive. Probably no different than he always did— she wouldn't have been surprised if this was just his way of thinning the herd faster than normal. Whatever the case, he'd been doing this for a long time now, and wouldn't let a minor setback like her survival show on his face.

            She was going to make damn sure she was more than a minor setback.

            "Well, well. Look who shows up at long last," Harkun said to her as she walked into his office. "I half expected to hear you'd crossed some Dark Lord upstairs and finally got yourself killed. None of the others have shown up either. I assume they're dead by now— which means you and Ffon are the last ones."

            _You heartless, soulless_ monster! _You know exactly what's happened,_ thought Byz, glaring at him. "Speaking of Ffon— he seems conspicuously absent," she noted, burying her rage deep where it could fester wonderfully.

            "You only wish it, slave," Harkun said ominously. "No— you took so long returning, I sent Ffon ahead. Your final trial will be to retrieve an ancient map from the innermost chamber of Naga Sadow's tomb— which has never been breathed in thousands of years. But before you get the map, you'll have to awaken an ancient assassin called a Dashade that sleeps in the tomb. You cannot access the map without him, understand?"

            "What's so special about this map?" Byz asked dubiously.

            "Lord Zash wants it," said Harkun, as if that was all there was too it. Well, that probably _was_ all there was too it. As if Zash would let a petty little minion like Harkun know what she was doing. "Oh— and one more thing. You'll be competing with Ffon for this map. Whoever brings it back will be Lord Zash's apprentice. The other will die. And Ffon's already started— so my advice? Run, slave. Run."

            "Ahem. One moment, please," said a familiar voice behind Byz.

            She turned, surprised, to see that Lord Zash had walked into Harkun's office. Harkun seemed equally surprised. "Lord Zash— what are you doing here?" He sputtered.

            "Overseer," said Zash in a dark tone. "Are you implying that I— a Lord of the Sith— don't have the right to go where I please within the Academy of the Sith?" Byz could almost _see_ the venom of her words dripping in the air.

            "No, of course not, Lord Zash," he said, chastened.

            " _Good_. I saw the last acolyte arrive. I wanted to see the hopefuls off on their final trial," Zash continued. "Where's— um... what's his— the red one, Ffon?"

            Byz tried not to let her glee at Ffon being so easily dismissed from memory show on her face as Harkun answered Zash. "He finished his trial early, so I sent him on rather than keeping him waiting for this—"

            "Pity," Zash interrupted him, "I just finished translating the wonderful text this acolyte brought form Tulak Hord's tomb, and it's most illuminating. I don't know that the map can be retrieved without it."

            "Well, well, well. It's a good thing I _didn't_ start running, isn't it, Harkun?" Byz cooed mockingly at him, relishing this opportunity to watch him squirm.

            "It's too late. Ffon's already left," said Harkun, ignoring her in his panic. "You can't just—"

            "— Give one acolyte an unfair advantage over the other?" Zash finished for him. "Overseer, when has being Sith ever been about being fair?" Oh, yes, this was _most_ cathartic. The irony was _delicious_ — Harkun's attempt at giving his precious pet an advantage had turned to a most terrible disadvantage. Zash turned to address Byz. "Now, my dear acolyte, here is what you must do to free the Dashade."

            Byz straightened, smoothing out the euphoric glee as she listened intently..

            "There are rods scattered throughout the tomb of Naga Sadow," Zash explained. "These rod are the keys to the chamber where the ancient assassin is imprisoned. You will need to place the rods in the chamber door and electrify them.

            "I don't know exactly the reason," Zash admitted, "But it is clear that you will not be able to retrieve the map without the Dashade. But be careful— he is very dangerous."

            "Is there anything else I should know about the Dashade?" Byz asked.

            "It's a Force-resistant assassin— I have reason to believe this one was placed in the tomb by Tulak Hord himself," said Zash. "I will return when both acolytes are back from the tomb. You will _not_ do anything further to affect the outcome of the trial." This was directed to Harkun. "Understood?"

            "Yes, Lord Zash," Harkun said, defeated.

            "Good— and good luck, acolyte."


	10. The Tomb of Naga Sadow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops my hand slipped and I finally wrote another chapter.  
> Fun fact: the first 3 paragraphs were written right after I wrote the previous chapter. The remainder of it was written over the course of the past week. Yes I'm terrible.  
> (Also, shiny new expansion! It's also kind of pissing me off what they did with companions! /ragequit jk)  
> I've also started school again so don't expect regular updates... although I suppose after a months-long hiatus you guys probably don't expect regular updates anyways.  
> I originally intended to end this just before reaching the Dashade but then a whole bunch of words happened so we're ending it on a high (??) note.

            Byz took a moment to sit on the steps leading up to the Academy, managing to just stay within some shade, to reflect on the current events. She truly could not believe her good fortune, that Harkun would inadvertently hinder his favourite and give _her_ an advantage. She also wondered if, perhaps, that was Lord Zash's intention. The Sith Lords played very dangerous games, and not all of them were readily apparent.

            Something was niggling the back of her mind. She'd learned something earlier, something that must have been relevant to her current task... but what was it? She chewed on a fingernail as she pondered. _Something I've read... or overheard... or advice given... but what could it be?_ Byz couldn't even pinpoint what was causing that insistence that she remember something.

            "Perhaps it's the force," she muttered to herself, then snorted. She didn't really believe in all that mythical nonsense she'd heard people spout on about, that the Force was its own being and helped people from time to time. It was a tool— a very powerful tool, true, but still a tool.

            There was no use in worrying about it— she would remember or she wouldn't, and she had more important things to do than waste time digging through her memories. Although Zash was certain that the trial could not be completed without her information, Byz certainly didn't want to leave it to chance. If Ffon succeeded, she was doomed.

            “Tombs, tombs, and more tombs... Korriban is a dead planet, for sure,” Byz sighed, standing to brush off her robes before setting off to Naga Sadow’s tomb.

            Stepping lightly through the thin crowds of acolytes and others, Byz wondered who Naga Sadow was. For that matter, who _any_ of the Sith Lords were, whose tombs she’d trespassed in. She was beginning to realise that she was woefully ignorant of the Sith history, of the people who had been, and who _were_ , important. She would have to remedy that when she could... after defeating Ffon.

            As she neared the tomb’s entrance, she was stopped by one of the sentries. “Acolyte, may I speak to you for a moment?” she asked deferentially.

            “Sure, why not?” Byz said, suppressing a sigh. “Go ahead.”

            “Thank you,” the sentry said, bowing her head slightly. “I am honoured that you would do me the courtesy.” Byz still found the almost reverential respect jarring. “There was... another acolyte... not long ago, who entered this tomb and did not come back. He... he died in there.”

            Byz twitched an eyebrow upwards. “And you were worried I might die as well? That’s sweet,” she said dryly.

            “No!” The sentry was quick to interject. “I mean, of course you would survive if you went in there... it’s just...” She took a moment to compose herself. “The acolyte who went in there, he... he was a good sort. Friendly and talkative. He said he was entering the tomb to prove himself to his father. I just thought it would be nice if somebody took his body back and told his father he didn’t make it.”

 _If his father is like anyone else here, I’m sure he’ll just be disappointed in how weak his son was,_ Byz thought, but kept it to herself. “Yes, the father should be told that his son had fallen,” Byz said. _He will not thank anyone for it, though._

            “I’d never survive in there, and even if I did, I wouldn’t be allowed to see his father,” the sentry said, finally getting to the point. “He is a dark honour guard stationed in the Academy. None but Sith can ever set foot on the sacred ground where he stands watch. But _you_ could find the body and bring it to his father. Please, do this and honour the fallen?”

            “I can absolutely do that,” said Byz with a wave of her hand. Easy... child’s play, really. And if what Zash said about the Dashade was true...she could afford a small detour. Ffon wasn’t going anywhere. Probably.

            "Thank you so much," said the sentry, relieved. "If you find the acolyte's remains inside the tomb, let me know— I can tell you where to find his father in the Academy. Good luck."

            Byz gave a slight bow of her head in farewell, and headed into the tomb, pausing a moment to let her eyes adjust to the dimness. Much like before, she could see others— failed acolytes, hoping to win favour... or perhaps the freedom from the horrors of the Sith academy that death would grant them.

            She was finding it easier and easier to dispatch humanoid enemies. No longer did she feel uneasy at the heady rush of power and thrill at killing. It was just another step in the process of becoming Zash's apprentice. A slash of her blade here, a crackling of lightning there, and there were no more bodies between herself and her goal. She tried to reason that it wasn't the same as Harkun or Ffon, she was killing because _they_ attacked her _first_ , it was self defence... but even to her ears it sounded flimsy.

            If she were being perfectly honest with herself, she would admit that she was frightened of becoming the very monsters she loathed.            

            It didn't take long to find the body of the acolyte, but before she could move his remains she spotted something in the back of the room, skulking in the shadows, watching her but otherwise remaining where it was. She couldn't sense any outward hostility from the creature, but it still felt... _odd_.

            _Let it alone, Byz,_ she thought to herself, _it's probably yet another weird Sith-creature that will try to eat your face_. Although, if it were going to try to eat her, she would probably have to deal with it sooner or later as she went deeper into the tombs...

            She stifled a sigh and carefully approached the creature. As she drew closer, she was repulsed— a hideous thing, with a single eye and a malformed face and green skin, it certainly wasn't going to be winning any beauty pageants. It bore no resemblance to any alien that Byz had ever seen, although that wasn't saying a whole lot.

            "Who is this?" The creature said as she approached. "Who comes speaking to Seh-run? Is it acolyte? Is it Sith?"

            "What exactly _are_ you?" Asked Byz, keeping a wary distance.

            "Seh-run does not know its kind. Only its place," it answered. How helpful. "Seh-run once lived in the Academy— was once like you! Seh-run feasted on the scraps of the beast pens... until the overseer sent it away to starve."

            This made utterly no sense to Byz. "Could you try to explain things from the beginning?"

            "When Seh-run was small and weak, it lived in the darkness— ate the things that crawled and hid from Sith," he continued. "Then Overseer Prithor found Seh-run. Brought bones and meat for Seh-run! Made Seh-run stronger— much better than supping on worms and rats." Well, Byz certainly couldn't fault it on _that_. She'd stooped to eating insects, once, when her Master had punished her by not giving her meals for a week. It had not been a pleasant time.

            "What do you mean, 'stronger'?" Byz inquired, narrowing her eyes. She was getting the feeling there was something unnatural going on.

            "When Prithor fed Seh-run, it became more powerful. It became faster and stronger! More and more every time," Seh-run replied, sounding excited before drooping back to despondence. "But not anymore. Overseer Prithor stopped feeding Seh-run special meals. Kept Seh-run from getting stronger, and sent it away. Seh-run hid here, in the caves. But Seh-run has no peace! Monsters hurt it, and Seh-run is too weak to hurt monsters back. Seh-run needs strength from Prithor's meat. Needs power."

            "If Prithor's the one who exiled you to these caves, I doubt he'll change his mind about feeding you," Byz pointed out. _And I'd rather not continue feeding you this 'meat', either..._

            "He could! He might," Seh-run insisted. "You could save Seh-run. You could find Prithor... make him give us his special food. Seh-run would be strong enough to hunt then!"

            She had no intention of feeding Seh-run anything, but... "If Prithor is really behind all this, he may be worth investigating."

            "Overseer Pirthor works in the beast pens," it said, taking her curiosity as assent. "He will have scraps for Seh-run. Find him, and Seh-run will reward you." Byz wasn't sure she would even _want_ whatever this creature could 'reward' her with. "Seh-run will wait for you here. Wait for its meal." The creature skulked back into the shadows to wait, and Byz slowly moved back to the acolyte's corpse, never really taking her eyes off of Seh-run.

            Since she had to take the corpse out and go back to the academy to inform the father anyways, she might as well take a look into this Overseer Prithor as well. It wouldn't take that long, surely.

            _How many times are you going to say that to yourself?_ Byz wondered. If by some miracle she became a Darth, she was certain she'd be named 'Darth Ever-Late'.

            "You found him? That poor acolyte," said the sentry when Byz returned to her.

            "He got torn up pretty badly in there," Byz said. As there had been no creatures (other than Seh-run) around, she could only assume that it was the other Acolytes that had done it, and she wondered at the excess brutality of her peers.

            "Ah... and he was so brave and ready to prove himself to his father," the sentry said mournfully. "His father is... was... Naman Fal. As I said before, he's one of the dark honour guards in the Academy. If you take his remains to his father, I'm sure he'll be grateful."

            "What exactly _is_ a 'dark honour guard' anyway?" Byz asked. She hated being ignorant.

            "They are the Sith chosen from the most loyal and brutal shock troops to defend the Dark Council and the Emperor himself," she replied, and if she were surprised at Byz's ignorance on the matter, she did not show it. "You can find the acolyte's father outside the Chamber of the Dark Council. That's where he stands guard."

            Byz trotted back to the Academy, passing by Overseer Markan as she entered the large building, and she _swore_ she could hear him say something along the lines of "Not dead yet?!" It was nice to know that she was disappointing people wherever she went.

            Byz's first stop was to visit Naman Fal, as she wanted to be rid of the corpse as soon as possible. It was somewhat inconvenient to carry it around. She felt nervous, going up the elevator to the upper floor. She was a mere acolyte, and a former slave to make it even worse, would he even bother to listen to her?

            She took a breath to steel her courage and approached him.

            She didn't even get a chance to speak before he addressed her. "You don't belong here," he said disapprovingly. "You stand before the Chamber of the Dark Council, and this floor is off-limits to all who are not Lords of the Sith." Oops. "If you are not on official business, you will leave now."

            "I've come with news about your son," Byz said nervously. Harkun and the other Overseers came across as more petty than anything else, and Zash so far had been nothing but nice to her, so coming across a Sith this serious was very intimidating. _And how powerful must he be to be guarding the Dark Council?_

            "So that is the smell you carry," he said, curling his lip. "It is said that he went into the tomb of Naga Sadow to prove himself and was killed. He was such a weak boy. He shames me in death as he shamed me in life."

            Byz bristled, angry on the behalf of the poor, dead acolyte. He was his father, was he not? Surely he had to care at least somewhat?

            "When I heard of his death, I could not leave my post; honor forbade it," he continued. "Still, I would like to know what happened in there."

            "Tell me about what happens around here, first," said Byz. She was genuinely curious about the goings-on of the Sith. "Must be pretty crazy."

            Naman Fal didn't look terribly impressed by her curiosity. "This is where the Dark Council meets, where Sith politics play out, where the Emperor issues his decrees and where lives are destroyed with the flick of a wrist. Satisfied?" She really wasn't, but he sounded so annoyed that Byz didn't press. "Now tell me: Where did you find his body? Did my pathetic son even make it past the first steps? In the end... was he Sith?"

            So, he did care— at least a little bit, anyways. He was doomed to disappointment if she told him the truth, as she'd found him in the first chamber of the Tomb, but... did she really have to tell him the truth? Despite his lack of faith in his deceased son, he did look like he'd be affected greatly by his son's failure. "He died valiantly, deep in the tombs," she lied. "He was nearly Sith."

            "He died well? I suppose my son had more of me in his heart than I had ever considered possible," Naman Fal said, looking surprised and also... satisfied, perhaps? "With this news, you have brought me a peace I didn't think possible. Thank you. I will have him buried in honour. Take this small token of my appreciation and go."

            Byz took the small sum gratefully, and as she walked back to the elevator she couldn't help but smile a touch. Sure, she'd lied about what had happened to his son, but he looked so happy now, and his son could be remembered fondly instead of with distaste.

            _Oh, Byz, you are not meant for the life of a Sith, are you?_ She thought to herself. _Too soft-hearted you are... but is that such a bad thing?_

            One task done, she moved on to her next task: Overseer Prithor.


	11. Trial of the Tomb

            Byz found the beast pens in the same corridor that led to Harkun's office. She found the idea that Harkun shared space with literal animals hilarious.

            When she walked in, there was only one other person inside. She hoped that this was Overseer Prithor, as she didn't feel terribly charitable to the idea of running around the academy looking for him.

            As she approached him, he addressed her sharply. "What do you want? I'm training slaves to feed the beasts, and I don't have time to chat!"

            Charming fellow. She was glad she never was sent to the beast pens. "Have you heard of a creature called Seh-run?" She asked.

            Prithor looked quite startled when she mentioned the creature's name. "Seh-run? You know of Seh-run?"  Byz nodded. "That creature was... close to me when I was an acolyte. It helped me survive my trails— it travelled placed I couldn't, told me everything it heard and saw." An interesting stratagem, to use the assistance of another. Rare for a Sith to rely on another. "It had been living off Vermin before I came along. I figured out a way to make it healthier, stronger— Seh-run's "special meals"..."

            "It seems too pitiful to be useful," murmured Byz, thinking back on how cringing and cowardly it acted.

            "I thought the same thing, at first. I didn't realize," he said, and by his tone Byz had a feeling she was about to find out some disturbing information. "Seh-run never knew exactly what I fed it. Its meals weren't just beast fodder— Seh-run ate the corpses of the Academy's failures, the bones and blood of dead acolytes. Feeding on their energy after death, it grew exponentially more powerful with every meal and became strong in the dark side."

            Byz gaped at him. _That's disgusting! Is_ that _what I have to look forward to if I fail?!_ "You fed the corpses of dead students to that thing?" She asked, incredulous.

            "The sludge we feed to the slaves and the tuk'ata wouldn't have sated Seh-run," he replied defensively. "And bodies pi le up quickly here— it was an easy way to dispose of them." _You monster._ "When I saw how twisted Seh-run was becoming, I sent it away. It was becoming hungrier all the time, and I feared it would attack the living."

            Since when did Sith care about the well-being of others? Or perhaps he just didn't want to get in deep trouble when Seh-run inevitably attacked somebody important and was traced back to him.

            "Destroying it seemed impossible— it could heal any injury it suffered. I hoped it would find a new home somewhere, but it seems we must act more decisively," he said with a sigh.

            "What's your plan?" She asked, curious.

            "Aid Seh-run, and it will turn on us. One more taste of power, and it will begin hunting acolytes; _I can't allow that_ ," he said fervently. Well, it seemed he really did care about the well-being of others. Other Sith, anyways. "Together, we must poison Seh-run. Before I sent Seh-run away, I developed a powerful toxin... but I didn't have the heart to use it. It won't kill the creature, but it should strip it of its power."

            "Seh-run helped you. It adored you. How can you be so ungrateful?"

            "If I thought I could keep that thing, I would! I tried, but Seh-run isn't what it used to be. Poisoning it would be merciful," he said. His expression softened slightly. "If we do this, Seh-run won't survive much longer. It will hide as best it can and slowly starve. But the alternative is to let it become a living horror."

            Byz sighed, putting a hand to her forehead. If it was true what he said, that Seh-run would start to feed on other acolytes... "Then let's poison that thing," she said, finally.

            "I'm glad you see it as I do," Prithor said, relieved. "I'm giving you this meat. Don't ask me where it came from, but it should fool Seh-run. Once the poison is in its system, it will weaken." He paused. "I take no satisfaction in this— but it is necessary."

            That said, he turned back to his work, and Byz made the trek back to the tombs, pausing to take a look at her messages. She'd received a letter from Lord Renning's apprentice, Malora, who was complaining about doing more work for him. She ended it with a gift of adrenals from her Master, signing off with, "He hopes it will lessen the chance of you being killed. May he be as wrong in that as he is in everything else."

            Byz's lips thinned. _Ungrateful wretch, she should be happy I didn't reveal her treachery to Renning._

            Back in the tombs, she solidly trounced more failed acolytes before seeking out Seh-run again. Not that she'd wanted to attack them, she would much rather have left them alone, but the idiots kept attacking her first and she didn't survive 17 years of slavery to be murdered in a tomb.

            Or was it 18 now? She could never remember her birthday.

            "You return, and you have meat!" Seh-run said excitedly. "Seh-run smells it."

            "It's right here— have it," she said, handing it over, trying not to visibly cringe at having to touch it.

            Seh-run eagerly tore into the meat, and Byz had to summon all her willpower to not recoil with disgust. "Excellent. Excellent," said the creature, looking almost blissful until another expression crossed its face. "But there is something... odd. It has not tasted flesh in too long, perhaps? Or..." Understanding crossed its features. "The meat does not make Seh-run strong. The meat makes it strange! What do you feed it?"

            "Don't say "thank you" or anything," she said disdainfully, attempting to act as if she had no idea what he was going on about.

            "Seh-run curses you, despises you!" It hissed at her. "Go away, now, and leave it alone."

            Despite everything, Byz felt sorry for the creature. "Leave this evil place, Seh-run. Leave the Academy, and leave Korriban if you can. It's no place for you."

            "Go away!" It wailed at her, slinking away and disappearing into the shadows of the tomb.

            Byz sighed, wondering if it would just let itself die instead of trying to find other ways to survive. If the Overseer hadn't taken to feeding it the flesh of acolytes, perhaps it would have turned out much differently.

            She made her way deeper into the tombs, collecting the Rods between killing her follow Acolytes who sought to steal her place, blind to the fact that it would not help them— Zash obviously wanted someone with a specific set of qualities and skills, and they did not even know whom she was fighting to be the apprentice of, or what her goals were.

            The theme of Korriban appeared to be hopeless futility.

            Leaving a bloody wake behind her, Byz eventually found all four Rods required to reach the Dashade. She hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Ffon during her descent deeper into the tomb, and she wondered where he was hiding. The rods were required, yes, but surely once he realised he could go no further he would turn back to garner more assistance from Harkun? Or perhaps he merely desired to finish her off before anything else.

            Best keep an eye on the shadows, just in case.

            She checked her map to reorient herself, then continued into the tombs, destroying more ancient droids as she went. _How have these remained functional after all this time?_ She wondered. _There were droids that could barely last a month at my last position as a slave..._

            Across a large gap, she could see what she presumed to be the Dashade, although she couldn’t make out the details in the gloom. There was no way to get there from where she was, but the way continued around the edge and to a corridor leading elsewhere. That being the only way to go, she continued, finding some amusement in using her shockwave to send the droids hurtling to destruction of the ledge.

            It didn’t take long to find the end of the corridor, a square room with four altars arranged around a meditation square, walls decorated with carvings of slaves bowing in subservience and a large, glowing tablet impeding her way forward.

            “The Rods go into the altars, I’m sure... but how is that supposed to help?” Byz asked aloud, her voice echoed back to her from the walls of the tomb. No answers there.

            She placed the rods into their altars, and stepped up to the meditation square. She took one last suspicious look around her, expecting Ffon to appear at any moment to strike her down, before bowing her head and clasping her hands in front of her in a meditative stance.

            Almost immediately she was struck by lightning, and her first panicked thought was that Ffon had found her after all, before realising that the lightning was coming from one of the rods she’d placed in the alters. One by one the other rods followed suit, sending agonizing jolt after jolt of lightning into her until she collapsed to her knees, prostrate like the statues of slaves behind her.

            _No,_ she thought, struggling to her feet. _Never again. Never again will I kneel_ _— I am_ Sith _and I command my own power!_

            She could feel the lightning flowing through her, hers to command, and with a force of will she sent it hurtling towards the tablet, forcing it open with the power she’d been granted by the ritual, clearing the way to the resting place of the Dashade.

            It was then that she remembered the words of Overseer Ragate. _When your final trial comes, beware the shadow-killer. It can be bound but never controlled._

            Shadow-killer. The Dashade was said to the assassin of Tulak Horde.

            “Oh. Shit.”

            Byz stared across the remaining distance between her and the Dashade, struggling between the knowledge that she _needed_ the Dashade to complete her trial, and the warning Overseer Ragate had given her.

            _There is only one option for me— forward. Never again will I be a slave or under the whim of Harkun. I will continue with the Dashade under my command... or I will die here._

            Resolve hardened, Byz stepped towards the Dashade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which we learn how old Byz is (in a vague sort of way)! She's a young little thing, to be sure. Originally she was going to be 16 but then I took pity on poor Andronikos and bumped her up to "can legally purchase a drink in (parts of) Canada".
> 
> Next Chapter, we finally meet Khem Val and (hopefully) wrap up Korriban!


	12. Khem Val

            Byz slowly walked down the walkway leading to the Dashade, entranced and horrified by the creature kept suspended in the tomb. He was massive— almost half again as tall as she was— and looked built to pull a freighter behind him. An ugly creature, with a gaping maw lined with teeth and strange markings all over his overly-muscled body, clad only in a loincloth.

            _Wouldn’t that get chilly?_ Byz thought to herself as she crept closer.

            “Ha!” The Dashade laughed as she approached. “All the world conspires to mock me! Haha! Tulak Hord! I waited for you. I did everything you said! And this is what you send me?”

            _Has centuries of isolation rendered this creature utterly insane? I hope this won’t interfere with the trial..._

            “Ha! Fate is cruel to me, little one,” he continued, “But not as cruel as it is to you. You have made a terrible mistake.”

            _I’m beginning to think you might be right._ “These were the instructions Zash gave me,” she said, mostly to herself as she looked around for a sign on how to free the creature. “I am to free you and you will take me to the map in the final chamber of the tomb.”

            “I am Khem Val, servant of Tulak Hord, who was called Lord of Hate, Master of the Gathering Darkness, Dark Lord of the Sith,” said the Dashade. “Together, Tulak Hord and I devoured our enemies at the battles of Yn and Chabosh and brought the entire Dromund system to its knees. And now I await his return.”

            _I have no idea what he’s talking about. I barely know who Tulak Hord is!_ “I hate to be the one to break it to you,” she said slowly, “but Tulak Hord is dead.”

            “Dead?” The creature repeated, looking and sounding as mournful as one as hideous as he could. “My lord, why didn’t you come for me? I would have died with you — no, I would have slain death itself...” He sounded so truly devastated by this news, that Byz pitied the creature. To have his identity so entwined with his Master... “As for you, you should not have come here. For I hunger— and I will devour you!”

            With a mighty roar, the Dashade broke free of his centuries-long restraints, landing with a loud crash on the walkway as Byz hurriedly backed away, fumbling to bring her sword out in time. _If only I could have a lightsaber...!_

            Khem Val rushed towards her, reaching behind him to grab the vibroblade strapped to his back that looked as if it were as large as she... and could easily chop her in half if she wasn’t careful. To buy herself some time, she sent a heavy wave of energy to blast him back, following it up with a heavy dose of lightning to shock him in place as she readied her lightning stream.

            He recovered from the lightning soon enough, and although slowed by the stream of energy he was not halted, roaring as he swung his the blade at her neck, and she barely rolled back in time.

            _Something’s wrong. My use of the force feels weaker than normal,_ thought Byz, panicked as she dodged his blows and flung lightning blast after lightning blast at him.

            _A force-resistant assassin..._

            Byz was beaten back towards the door, struggling to manage her power while avoiding his blows. She may have come far in the scant time she’d been in Korriban, but it was nothing compared to a creature that had fought wars next to a famous Sith. She was certain the only reason she was still alive was that it was sluggish and weak after so long kept immobile and isolated.

            _Resistant, but not immune. You just have to try harder, Byz!_

            She’d been avoiding the use of her sword, as she needed the Dashade _alive_ to complete her trial, but she’d started to notice that his hide seemed thicker than a human’s, more resistant, and more to the point she’d rather fail her trial and be _alive_ than devoured and forgotten deep in a dilapidated tomb. Forcing him back with another force wave, she again smashed him with enough lightning to keep him still, following it up with a quick dash to rain several blows upon him with her sword, ducking to avoid his blade and sending another handful of lightning shortly after.

            _Yes, yes_ _— just like that! Keep going, Byz, or else you’re as pathetic as Harkun says you are!_

            A flurry of blows, staggering Khem. She slashed across his chest, opening the skin and sending rivulets of blood down his torso. She held her blade across his neck, panting, _“I win.”_

            “Ha!” Khem laughed, sounding almost insane. Perhaps he was, at that. “Defeated! Defeated! Why did you not come for me, Tulak? Why have you allowed your servant to be reduced to this?”

            The way he referred to Tulak almost sounded like a devotee to their God. Was Tulak Hord truly such a man to engender such respect from his servants?

            “Fine, little one,” he grudgingly conceded. “In my great weakness, you have defeated me, so I must serve you— this is the law that binds me. But you are not my master.”

            Byz blinked, somewhat startled at the ease in which he accepted his defeat. She also wondered at the honour he possessed, that he would serve her faithfully even if he clearly hated her. “Fine,” she said to him, “Then let’s go.”

            “As you say, little one,” he said, and Byz was already starting to get tired of being referred to as ‘little’. She _was_ , but he didn’t have to constantly remind her of it. “But someday I will regain my strength.”

            How nice. Byz shook her head, dazed that such a powerful creature was now at her beck and call. She’d never thought that she’d go from being a slave to having servants of her own... she would have been happy if she’d been allowed to choose a mate and have a family. Not that it was a particularly appealing option, as the Sith were wont to separate children from their parents to sell them off.

            She shook her head again, banishing those thoughts. _No place for those, not anymore. I’m Sith now_ _— I will never again be beholden to another’s will. Just get this map, and it’s all over._

            Byz checked her map, following the directions until she was stopped by a wall of debris not far from the walkway to Khem’s stasis chamber. “Oh. Well. That’s terribly inconveni—”

            Without even waiting to hear what she had to say, Khem rushed forward and smashed down the wall of debris with his bare fists, scattering pieces everywhere, one even bouncing off her head on flight.

            Byz gaped at the new hole before looking up at Khem. “Are you sure I beat you and you didn’t just give up?”

            Khem glared disapprovingly at her.

            “Right. Well, let’s get that map then...” Byz muttered to herself, pressing forward.

            The way led her through chambers lined with more statues of submissive slaves, filled only with hungry shyrack that were easily dispatched by herself and Khem, and Byz had to admit that having someone to fight with her, even reluctantly, was a nice feeling.

            That feeling evaporated immediately when she turned into another chamber and saw the massive beast standing between her and the map. “Oh... my...” she said dumbly, staring wide-eyed at the massive creature. She had utterly no idea what it was, but she had a feeling that it was why she needed Khem Val to retrieve the map. How else was she to defeat such a thing?

            “Alright Khem... let’s teach this monster who’s in charge here. Go.”

            Khem rushed forward, taking the attention of the beast as he smashed it with his blade, Byz staying a distance behind to deal damage with her lightning.

            It was a hard fight, and even with Khem’s help she nearly succumbed to the beast’s attacks, but ultimately they were victorious. The creature collapsed to the ground, making the room shake with the force as Byz caught her breath, holding her side where she’d been grazed. She was going to have to learn how to keep attention off herself and focused on Khem. The light robes favoured by Sith who favoured the force did little in the way of protecting her from direct damage. Very comfy, but not terribly resistant to teeth.

            “Little Sith is lacking in combat experience.” She wasn’t sure if it was a simple statement of fact or disapproval. She had a hard enough time deciphering his alien language, and it was even harder to detect tone.

            “Yes, well...” she panted, fishing a medpac from her pocket. “You try being raised a domestic slave your whole life, see how well you do.” As she applied the medpac, she glanced around the chamber, taking in the sight.

            Before her a large map of the galaxy glowed, slowly spinning as the holographic stars glittered in the dim light of the tomb. It was eerily beautiful, and Byz could not help but be entranced as she slowly ascended the stairs. “This is amazing,” she breathed, eyes wide and reflecting the glittering vision before her. “There must be more to it that this for Zash to desire it so much, I’m sure, but just looking at it is... breathtaking. The detail...”

            Khem didn’t appear to share her enthusiasm. Well, he’d been the top servant of a Sith Lord, so he was probably used to such sights to make them mundane, but _she_ barely had access to basic holos. This was beyond her simple lifestyle.

            The sight-seeing had to end sometime, however, and with a sigh she carefully retrieved the map from the terminal it was placed in, the image of the gallery flickering and then disappearing, leaving the room much darker than before. “Let’s go, Khem... my new master awaits.”

\---

            With Khem at her side, it was no effort at all to make her way back through the tomb to the surface. Most acolytes didn’t dare approach from fear of the Dashade, and the few who did were easily defeated, made easier by Khem’s resistance to the Force.

            She garnered more than a few shocked and fearful looks as she made her way to Harkun’s office, and she found herself simultaneously feeling self-conscious and proud at the attention she was getting. _Just something you need to get used to, Byz._

            As she neared Harkun’s office, she could hear the voices of both him and Ffon, and she slowed her steps, motioning to Khem to stay behind her so she could eavesdrop on their conversation.

            “I’m telling you, overseer, it cannot be done,” Ffon insisted as Harkun leaned against his desk. “I went into the room, I saw the Dashade across the chasm, but I could not get to it.”

            “But the map! The map!” Harkun repeated, clearly at his wit’s end. “Lord Zash is adamant— she will not take an apprentice without the map!”

            “I’m telling you, Lord Zash wants the impossible. No one is ever going to get that map!”

            Byz stifled down a snicker at Ffon’s frustration. _I suppose now is a good time as any to make my appearance._

            “No one except me, you mean,” she said easily as she strode into the room.

            “The map! And— the Dashade!” said Harkun, noticing Khem hulking behind her. “G-get that monster out of here this instant! And give me the map!”

            “No, it’s not possible!” Ffon seethed at her, his anger and humiliation almost visible. “You wretch, you filth— you must have cheated somehow. How did you do it? How did you release the monster?”

            Khem thought very little of Ffon and his temper tantrum. “I am not a monster,” he growled. “I am Khem Val, servant of Tulak Hord, devourer of the rebels at Yn and Chabosh, consumer of the Dromund system. And I am hungry.” The last bit was said with a fervent stare at Ffon, who quailed before the imposing creature.

            “R-right,” Ffon stuttered. “You— you must have cheated... you must have. You’ll pay for this!”

            “Ffon! Patience,” Harkun admonished the acolyte. “You will have your chance at this whelp— after you personally deliver this map to Lord Zash.”

            Before she could react, Harkun snatched the map from her hands, handing it to Ffon as she seethed with rage.

            “I worked hard for that map,” she snarled at him, “and I’ll kill _both_ of you if I have to!”

            “Protest all you want, slave,” Harkun taunted, all but gloating. “You’ll die the same. Hurry, Ffon.”

            “Don’t go anywhere, Ffon,” came the voice of Lord Zash, cutting through the chaos like a sharp whip as she strode into the room.

            “Lord Zash?”

            “Yes, Ffon. Now, where’s my map?” She asked patiently.

            “H-here, Lord Zash,” Ffon stammered, clearly intimidated. “R-right here.”

            “ _You_ found it for me, Ffon?” How wonderful,” she said as she took it from him.

            “You are one _dead_ man,” Byz hissed at Ffon with a gesture in his direction.

            “Silence!” Zash snapped, and Byz instinctively flinched from the sharp tone. “Ffon will tell me what happened, won’t you, Ffon? You wouldn’t _dare_ lie to me, would you?” Something in her tone gave Byz pause. Come to think of it, she sounded awfully suspicious of what was going on since entering the room. “Because it would be a shame for me to discover that you lied to me. Now, one more time— did you bring this map back from Naga Sadow’s tomb?”

            Byz found herself feeling sorry for Ffon. Groomed to be arrogant and entitled, he was not prepared for what was happening to him now. Lord Zash’s cold voice and icy stare would be enough to strike terror in full-fledged Sith... and as Byz was realising, Ffon was no more that than she was.

            “I... I... n-no. No, I didn’t. I didn’t,” he said, broken and defeated. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

            “Harkun, you fool,” Zash hissed, turning her fury to the shaking Overseer. “In any other group for any other lord, this young man would have torn the other acolytes to shreds. What were you trying to prove?” Harkun looked as chastened as his protégée under Zash’s scorn. “That you could outsmart me? That you knew better than _me_ what kind of person _I_ wanted for an apprentice? _You fool!_ ”

            With no time for anyone in the room to react, Lord Zash flung a powerful stream of lightning into Ffon. With an agonized scream of pain and death, he spasmed under the torrent of energy, the reek of cooked flesh and hair assaulting Byz’s nostrils as he collapsed to the ground, dead, at Harkun’s feet.

            “ _There’s_ your pet, Harkun,” Zash spat. “Clean up this mess. Apprentice— meet me in my chambers upstairs.”

            Byz watched Zash leave before turning to Harkun. “Wow, she really fried him. Poor guy. I almost feel sorry for him now.”

            “This is not the end,” Harkun raged at her. “Without Lord Zash to save you, you’re nothing. I have connections that will hunt you wherever you go!”

            Byz rose her eyebrows at that. She didn’t entirely believe him, not after seeing how helpless he was before Zash. All talk... but, as Zash said, good at nothing but weeding out the weak. “Just face it— your star is dead,” she snapped, voice as cold as Zash’s. “You’re _nothing_.”

            “Get out of my sight, slave,” Harkun said, sounding rather emotional. How many dreams of his had been riding on Ffon’s shoulders? “Your new master is waiting for you upstairs.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end... of Korriban... is almost in sight...! Just have the final bit with Zash, then we're off to the fleet. Probably will keep that to a single chapter (she says, after not getting everything done in a single chapter like she'd thought last chapter...). Soon you'll be able to end your suspense over what advanced class Byz goes for.
> 
> In other trivia. I'm somewhat tempted to write a what-if in which Ffon (barely) survives his encounter with Zash, but I'm not sure what I'd actually do with it.  
> Divergent canon Ffon/Inquisitor romance go! (No that would be TERRIBLE, Sol, stop).


	13. Farewell Korriban

            Giddy with glee, drunk on the taste of success and the defeat of her enemies, Byz almost skipped down the halls and up the stairs to Darth Zash's chambers on the second level of the Academy. _I've done it. I've done it, I've won, and nothing can stop me now!_

            Zash's chambers were rather large, if somewhat sparse, and she sat behind a rather imposing desk atop a tiered dais.

            "Ah, my magnificent new apprentice," she said as Byz approached her. "Congratulations are in order, I believe."

            "You know, I could have taken Ffon," Byz pointed out. "I didn't need you to kill him for me" _Getting a little bloodthirsty, Byz..._

            "Yes, of course," Zash agreed, "but it wouldn't have made that stubborn overseer respect your power. So I reminded him of _mine_ instead." Byz couldn't really fault that logic. Although she was still disappointed that she didn't have the opportunity to make Ffon squirm. "Now, I was just looking over this astonishing map you brought back, and I can tell we have a lot of work ahead of us."

            "What is this map of, exactly?" Byz inquired.

            "We can't talk about it here— too many unfriendly ears," Zash cautioned. "You must meet me on Dromund Kaas. There we can talk more."

            "Why must we go there?" Byz had heard of the Sith Capital, of course, but she'd never been there, and she wondered what it was like.

            "That is where the map leads... though I likely would have taken you there anyways," she replied. "The capital of the Sith Empire is a good place for an apprentice to start. I will meet you in my chambers in the Citadel in Kaas City. There we can speak more freely of the work ahead— without the fear of unfriendly ears."

            Byz had some doubts to that. While Korriban was the seat of the dark council, surely the _capital_ would have far more enemies to worry about.

            Zash reached into her desk, pulling out an old, but well-made, lightsaber. "This is the lightsaber I had as an apprentice," she explained. "I want you to have it."

            She tossed the lightsaber to Byz, who easily caught it with a single hand. With a feeling of anticipation, she activated the weapon and sucked in a breath at the vibrant red blade that emerged. _I have a lightsaber. I actually have my own lightsaber!_

            Byz made a few practice swings with the sword, amazed at how natural it felt, and how easy it was to wield compared to the vibrosword she'd been lugging around since arriving at Korriban. "I shall wreak havoc with it wherever I go," she promised.

            "Magnificent. No doubt you will," said Zash. "Now, remember. My chambers. The Citadel. Dromund Kaas. It's imperative that we get to work on this as soon as possible."

            Zash spent a moment giving Byz instructions on how to get to the Imperial Fleet, where she would be able to find a shuttle to take her to Dromund Kaas, as well as some spending money for supplies. She'd need better than the worn-out clothes she'd been given by the Academy, after all.

            Byz watched Zash leave, having things of her own to prepare for before leaving for Dromund Kaas, then turned to Khem. "Is there anything you can tell me about Dromund Kaas, Khem? I'm sure you've been there before... if some time ago."

            Khem thought about it for a moment. "In the time of Tulak Hord, it was a dark place where the strong devoured the weak," he said finally. "Be cautious, Little Sith."

            "Thanks for the vote of confidence," she grumbled as she walked out to the hall leading out of Zash's chambers.

            "Stop right there, slave," said an apprentice she had never seen before. He was backed by two other men, presumably other apprentices, although she couldn't be sure. "Darth Skotia has a message for you."

            _Still with the 'slave' thing? Come on._ "Who is this Darth Skotia?"

            "Darth Skotia is Lord Zash's superior and your worst nightmare," the apprentice answered.  "The message is this: You will not go to Dromund Kaas. Everything you've done here, everyone you dealt with— Lord Zash included— is insignificant.

            "Darth Skotia has eyes and ears on Korriban. He knows what your master is up to, and he is displeased to say the least," he continued to drone on as Byz toyed with the idea of just punching him to see what would happen. "On Korriban, Lord Zash may have her way. But on Dromund Kaas, it's a different story. So you see, you have to die."

            Wait, what? Why was everyone so hell bent on having her killed? She narrowed her eyes at the apprentice. "Khem, what is it that you do to Force users again?"

            "I consume them and spit out their bones," he rumbled menacingly behind her, one of the guys following the apprentice backing away in pure terror.

            "Um, Ortosin," he said, "Is that a _Dashade_? Maybe this isn't such a good idea."

            _Oh, good. I get to know this guy's name before I kill him._ He would be best off listening to his follower, but something told Byz that that wasn't going to happen.

            "Coward!" Ortosin snarled, "Fight, you fool!"

            It was such an easy fight, Byz almost felt bad for them. She knew Ortosin would be the strongest, so she stunned him with a blast of heavy lightning, keeping him out of the way while she and Khem took down his thugs. Them out of the way, Ortosin was no match for her and Khem's combined power.

            She nudged the bodies on the floor with her foot. "Well. If this is all Skotia has to offer, I guess I don't have much to worry about then, do I?" She said to the corpses. "Come, Khem— Zash gave me some goodies to help improve this lightsaber... I'd like to see how much."

            The rest of Byz's time on Korriban was spent running around, gathering some basic supplies for her trip, tweaking her lightsaber, and finishing up the requests she'd picked up earlier but hadn't bothered to really look into. They were easy enough, with her new equipment and Khem Val to help her.

            The guy going on about the Red Engine was grateful, at least. If a bit weird.

            When she was finished, there was still some time before the next shuttle left for the Imperial Fleet, so she went to the small cantina held in the Academy to get a celebratory drink.

            "To the future," she said, raising the glass towards Khem before drinking it. It only mildly burned on the way down.

            "You should not have brought me here, little Sith," Khem grumbled at her. "You may have bound my will, but such bonds can be broken, and make no mistake: I will devour you.”

            He really could be such a downer sometimes. "By the time we are done, you will have fed to excess," she assured him, thinking about how cutthroat and ruthless the Sith power struggles were. Khem would eat so much he’d be able to roll around to get to places. The thought made her smile slightly.

            "My hunger is never slaked, and you are no Tulak Hord," he said, "But I will serve you faithfully, my master, until I am free."

            Well, that was certainly... comforting? Byz would have to take what she could get, and keep an eye open while she slept. Such was the life of a Sith, though, wasn’t it?

            Byz headed back to the shuttle, hopping in and watching as Khem had to very nearly crawl through the door. There weren’t many people inside the shuttle, a few imperials and another Sith apprentice, a red-skinned Zabrak woman in full armour, with a Twi’lek slave. The Twi’lek looked curious about Khem, nudging the Zabrak and whispering, but the Sith looked as if she couldn’t possibly care less about her fellow passengers and merely sat with her arms crossed in stony silence.

_What a charming woman_ , Byz thought. _I’m sure she’s great at parties_.

            The shuttle’s engines thrummed to life, and with a slight lurch it took off into the sky, to take its passengers to the fleet. To Byz, it felt like a chapter was ending on her life and a new one was starting.

            She just hoped she’d be able to survive to the end of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god this took me way too long to write. Hysterically it was _halfway done_ when I stopped working on it months ago. I've got more video backlog than you can shake a stick at; I've gotten Byz all the way to the beginning of Chapter 3 now. I wanted to get the choosing of advanced class done in this chapter as well but I'm so anxious to get SOMETHING out I'll save it for next chapter.
> 
> Also have a cameo appearance of Tawa-ret, the first toon I made on _Shadowlands_. She will feature regularly in Byz's adventures, along with others. She'll definitely be around next chapter.


	14. Blades or Lightning?

            To say that Byz was overwhelmed by Vaikon Space Dock would be a massive understatement.

            After departing from the shuttle, watching the imperious Zabrak soldier off for whatever important task she clearly seemed to have, Byz checked the map to make sure she knew where she was supposed to be going.

            “Well if I get lost surely _someone_ here can point me in the right direction...” she muttered to herself as she closed the holopad. “But what a sight that would be, a Sith asking for directions _on the Imperial Fleet_.”

            Khem Val dejectedly in tow, she made her way to the elevator to the main level, joined by a _massive_ human bounty hunter, who almost matched Khem Val in height, and looked kitted out enough to take on a whole cruiser by herself. The bounty hunter caught Byz staring, and flashed a good-humoured grin, probably used to the staring.

            Byz had been doing fairly well up to that point, until the elevator doors opened on the main level and she _truly_ saw Vaikon. There were masses of people, rushing this way and that, arguing in person or with holos, discussing politics, yelling at slaves and the regular bustle of a major civilisation. It was a rush of colours and a roar of sounds, and Byz found herself feeling quite over stimulated.

            Khem put a massive hand to her back and not-so-gently shoved her forward, breaking her entrancement, and more importantly, stopping her from blocking off the elevator.

            Byz anxiously rubbed her hands together as she looked around, making sure to stand just out of the way of the rushing traffic of the space port. This was a far cry from what she was used to, as she’d been situated on a rather backwater planet before being shipped off to Korriban. She’d just seen more people in the past five minutes, she figured, than she had in her entire miserable life.

            It took her a moment to realise that one of the Sith near the elevator was trying to get her attention.

            “At long last, Lord Zash’s apprentice,” he said. “May you soon gain the honours you so well deserve. On Korriban, you earned the right to be called Sith. But that was only the beginning. Your master wishes me to oversee your continued training.”

            _More ways to defend myself against my enemies... and allies. Sign me up._ “I am willing to learn whatever you have to teach,” she said.

            “Lord Zash said you were a good student and a fast learner,” he said approvingly. “Lord Zash embraces the search for dark artifacts and secrets. Others choose the martial path, channelling their anger into physical strength. You, too, must find your path.”

            “I prefer not to limit myself,” said Byz. She wanted to have all the advantages she could to outweigh the disadvantage of being a former slave.

            “It’s Lord Zash’s wish that you choose,” the Sith replied. “Think it over. Speak to Overseer Kyros when you are ready to begin your training in earnest.” He gestured in the presumed direction of Overseer Kyros, and Byz headed off.

            Keeping close to the walls so that she was out of the way, Byz couldn’t stop looking around. Despite the very anti-alien stance that the Empire tended to take, she could see members of all sorts of species rushing to and fro in the organised chaos, many that she’d never seen before.

            She did have to question the open spaces with only a tiny bit of railing to stop you from plummeting to your death, though. That just seemed like an incredibly poor design choice.

            It did not take long to find Overseer Kryos, surprisingly a red-hued Twi’lek man. _I suppose even the anti-alien leanings of the Sith can’t stand against merit,_ Byz thought. _I’m a Sith Pureblood, so perhaps I can also rise above the indignity of being a former slave..._

            “Overseer Kryos? I’m Byz...” It felt odd, to have such a short name, but it really was all she had. “Lord Zash requests that I learn from you.”

            He nodded. In Huttese, he said, “There are two paths open to you— that of the Sith Assassin or the Sith Sorcerer. An Assassin wields a double-bladed lightsaber and is a master of stealth, deception, and cunning. Lightning flows through the blade for damage and Darkness for defence.”

            Byz listened intently. Stealth _would_ prove highly useful, although she wasn’t entirely certain how proficient she could ever be at combat. Granted, she hadn’t been fighting long, and she’d made incredibly strides in her capabilities as a fighter in the crash course that was Korriban.

            “A Sorcerer destroys enemies from a distance, focusing on mastery of the Force,” Kyros continued. “They can fully control the destructive power of lightning, cripple foes and even restore allies. The choice is yours, but know this— once made, it cannot be unmade. Your destiny will be decided.”

            _Well, no pressure or anything_ , Byz thought to herself sourly. “I’ll think about it...” she murmured, bowing slightly and moving away. She liked the idea of stealth, and Assassins also seemed built to take on a lot of a damage, and if this Darth Skotia fellow continued to be a problem, it would prove useful to be able to take on a lot of punishment. Then again, mastery over the force was appealing as well. Controlling lightning felt very comfortable, and it came easily to her once she’d been shown how it worked. And restoring allies... healing, she presumed. She’d not seen much of it, either at Korriban or her home planet, but it was something that certain Sith could do, and she liked the idea of being able to help people despite being Sith. While Byz understood that she’d have to get used to a certain amount of cruelty, she didn’t want to become a _complete_ monster.

            “Blades or lightning... blades or lightning...” she murmured to herself. “What do you think, Khem?” She asked, looking up at her Dashade.

            The monster shrugged. “Tulak Horde was a mighty warrior, charging at his enemies with great strength and no fear,” he rumbled. “Neither of these things are like that. It is up to you, little Sith.”

            “You’re so helpful,” Byz grumbled. She found a chair and dropped into it, massaging her temples. “My choices are, simply put, to focus on using my lightsaber, or to focus on using the Force. You’ve watched me fight, a little, surely you have some idea of my strengths?”

            Khem looked dubious to the idea that she had _any_ strengths, but she was getting used to his ongoing disapproval and constant hero-worship of Tulak Horde. “My master, you are usually behind me when we fight our enemies, I don’t see much,” he pointed out.

            Byz thought about that. “If I’m behind you, then that means I’m generally not using my lightsaber. I’m focusing on the Force and channeling it through me...” Khem nodded, and Byz thought about it some more. “And you’re already very strong and able to take in a lot of damage. Enemies are naturally drawn to focus on _you,_ as you’re very scary looking and people would want to take you out, taking the focus off _me._ ” Khem nodded again, although he looked like he was disapproving of her willingness to stay to the sidelines. “With that being the case... it would be most beneficial if I could also _heal_ you... and with my tendency to focus on using the force _anyways_...”

            Byz stood and made her way back to Kyros. “Overseer Kyros?” she said, catching his attention. “I’ve made my choice. Train me in the ways of the Sorcerer.”

            He nodded. She wasn’t entirely sure, but it looked as if he approved of the choice. “Amongst the Sorcerers, there are three disciplines,” he explained. “Lightning, Corruption, and Madness.”

            “Well, Lightning is fairly self-explanitory,” Byz said dryly. “What about the other two?”

            “Corruption uses the dark power of the force to protect your allies from harm and heal them from any damaged cause,” he said, either unaware of or ignoring the bizarre contradiction of a healing discipline being called “Corruption”. “The Madness discipline corrupts and drains the life force of your enemies, damaging them with the dark powers of the Force.”

            For Byz, it was an easy choice. “Teach me more about Lightning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly I don't know why I agonised over this choice for as long as I did (about two weeks, technically, part of that was NOT PLAYING THE GAME thought lol). This fic is called "Heart of Lightning" WHAT ELSE WOULD I BE BUT A LIGHTNING SORC?! Also playing Lightning Sorc is AMAZING they are so OP lol
> 
> I was going to have the first bit of the Black Talon flashpoint on this chapter as well but I changed my mind. Next chapter will have probably the first half. I don't think the full thing would fit in the chapter size I like to maintain.


	15. Tawa-ret

            Byz spent a half hour learning some of the basics of the Sith Sorcerer from Overseer Kyros, learning a few new abilities in the process. Her favourite was most definitely Lightning Storm, where she could conjure lightning in a wide area. Perfect for clearing out a lot of people at once. Despite going for the Lightning discipline, she did learn a bit from the healing discipline as well, and Khem Val was the perfect test subject for it.

            “My master, I am not even injured,” he complained as she cast the healing spell over him.

            “Stop complaining, Khem,” she said, frowning with concentration. “Unless you want me to zap you with lightning first..?”

            He looked at her disapprovingly.

            Byz was about to try another round of force-healing, when someone bumped into her from behind and nearly knocked her over. Luckily, Khem was there to pinch the hood of her robe and pull her back upright, saving her from certain embarrassment.

            “Watch where you’re — ” Byz started imperiously, but stopped when she’d turned and seen who’d bumped into her.

            The imperious looking Zabrak Sith looked down at Byz — she was a full head taller —with a curious expression. “So you _are_ Sith,” she murmured, tapping her chin. “I’d thought so, but you’re so small and... unimpressive... that it was hard to tell.”

            _Is she picking a fight? I think she’s trying to pick a fight._ “Looks can be deceiving,” Byz returned coldly.

            The Zabrak snorted. “Oh, don’t spout _nonsense_ ,” she said, waving her hand. “Half of being Sith is looking as important and intimidating as possible, or else no-one will take you seriously.”

            “You Sith are _so_ weird,” said a slender-framed Twi’lek standing behind the Sith, rolling her eyes dramatically. Judging by the collar around her neck, she was the Sith’s slave.

            “Quiet, Vette, unless you want that collar on _even longer_ ,” the Sith warned.

            Vette sighed. “Yes, my lord,” she replied in a flat, resigned tone.

            “As _fascinating_ as watching this banter between you and your slave is, I do have things to be doing...” Byz interjected, and turned to leave.

            Or, rather, she tried to, but then the Sith had her arm around Byz’s shoulders and pulled her close. “Oh don’t be sore, I do not mean to offend, really,” said the Sith, ignoring both Byz’s discomfort and Khem Val’s warning growl. “I’m just trying to impart good advice to you. I sense you have the capacity to go far and rise high in the Sith Order... you just need to work on your appearance a little.”

            “And why would you want to help me at all?” Byz asked warily.

            She grinned. “Because we’re going to be good friends, of course,” she replied, patting Byz’s shoulder.

            Byz stared at the Zabrak.

            “Oh, I suppose some introductions are in order first. I’m Tawa-ret, Apprentice to Lord Baras,” she said, as if the name meant anything to Byz, who only knew the names of Zash, Harkun, and the mysterious Darth Skotia who seemed to have it out for her and her master. “You can just call me Tawa.”

            “I’m... Byz, Apprentice to Lord Zash,” Byz said hesitantly, unsure of how much she could take of this Sith at face value. And she still hadn’t let go of her.

            Tawa-ret started pulling Byz along. “First order of business, my dear Byz, is to get you some better clothes.”

            Panic started to well within Byz’s chest. “Now... wait a minute,” she protested. “It’s all well and good for _you_ to talk about better clothes and all that, but I don’t have the credits to — ”

            “Don’t worry about credits, my dear,” Tawa-ret assured her. “I come from an affluent family, I have more credits than I can use. Think of it as a gift.”

            _Why am I allowing myself to get railroaded into things I don’t want?_ Byz silently asked herself. “I... I’m happy that you are so concerned on my well-being, but I really don’t need — ”

            Tawa-ret pulled her closer, bending slightly so her mouth was near to Byz’s ear. “Byz, the Lords on this station, on Korriban, on Dromund Kaas — they look at you, will look at you, and see someone who can be easily crushed.” Her tone was low, serious, and quite at odds to the friendly tone she’d taken earlier. “And make no mistake, they _will_ crush you. You need to take steps to keep as many people from seeing you as a _victim_ , and instead see you as someone to be, if not respected, at least _considered_.”

            A cold chill went up Byz’s spine. What Tawa-ret said made a great deal of sense, and was something that Byz had not even thought of, she’d been so happy to be free from the life of a slave. Slaves worked the opposite way, trying to look as unassuming and invisible as possible... and she had to admit, she still thought that way. She’d only been made Zash’s apprentice a few hours ago, after all.

            Byz bit her lip. “I guess... I’ll take you up on your... generous offer.”

            Tawa-ret laughed. “Don’t sound so upset, Byz,” she gently chided. “It’s not a good look for you. You need to be _fierce_ , a storm that threatens to break what does not bend before it.”

            Byz gave her an unimpressed look.

            “That’s a good look, too — the threat of something worse to come,” she said, laughing again. “Come now, let’s go to the markets, and while we shop, you can tell me how you managed to snag yourself a Dashade.”

            “It’s too late for you now,” Vette told Byz. “She’d got her claws in you, and she won’t let go.”

            _How do these things keep happening to me?_ Byz lamented as Tawa-ret dragged her to the markets.

            Byz had done many time-consuming, tiring tasks in her life as a slave, but she’d never once been taken to help with her Masters’ shopping, and she was finding herself very much grateful for that fortune, because shopping was quite possibly one of the most tiresome things she found herself doing. Before today, she’d thought that being able to go out and purchase things for herself would be the greatest thing in the world, but with Tawa-ret and her ceaseless energy leading the expedition, it wasn’t long before Byz found herself wishing for the drudgery of cleaning Lord So-and-So’s hallway lined with 100 statues.

            She had thought the excursion would end at clothes, but Tawa-ret seemed determined to buy half the contents of the station’s wares for her, as then she bought Byz jewelry (thankfully she let Byz choose where to get piercings) and then makeup, which was an incredible chore as Byz didn’t know a thing about it. An entire hour was lost in Tawa-ret’s explanation (“This is a very bare-bones rundown, we don’t have time for an in-depth conversation,” she’d said) of the types of makeup and their application.

            Byz collapsed onto a bench in the centre cantina, totally drained. “Are we done? I don’t think I can take much more of this...” she complained.

            “I think we’ve made a decent start to your wardrobe,” Tawa-ret said. “I don’t know why you were wearing those terrible acolyte robes from Korriban.”

            “Better than slave garments,” Byz retorted tartly.

            “Why would you be wearing slave garments?”

            Byz gave her a long stare.

            “... oh.”

            “Hey, your new friend and I have something in common!” Vette piped up. “Both of us, former slaves!”

            “You’re still a slave, Vette.”

            Byz sighed, and forced herself not to rub her eyes. She’d done so once already, and Tawa-ret had smacked her hand, chastising her about smudging the makeup. “I should have run when I had the chance.”

            “I think you’ll change your tune once you see what you look like,” Tawa-ret said, taking a quick picture with her holodevice. “See?” she said, displaying the image.

            Byz stared at the image, shocked at the transformation she was seeing. Truth be told, she’d never been a big fan of how she looked, even before the hideous burn scar that marred the left side of her face. But with striking purple makeup highlighting her eyes and lips, gold jewelry to offset the faintly purple red of her skin, and a quick haircut to even out the style and better reveal her eyes made a massive difference to her appearance, and the clothes helped cinch the look.

            “Is that... really me?” She asked, stunned.

            “See? A little extra effort, and look at what a striking image you make!” Tawa-ret enthused. “It will take a lot more work to get people to take apprentices like us seriously, of course, but at least you’re considered worthy of consideration.”

            “I would’ve thought being Sith would’ve made her worthy of consideration,” Vette dead-panned, and was steadfastly ignored.

            “I doubt a makeover would have improved Overseer Harkun’s opinion of me,” Byz said dryly. _And I doubt Skotia will be impressed either._

            “Well what does he know?” Tawa-ret snorted. “Seeing as how he’s stuck on Korriban finding apprentices to actual lords. He’s no-one that you should be concerned of his opinion of you.”

            _Maybe I don’t mind you so much after all,_ thought Byz. “Well, we’ve missed at least three shuttles to Dromund Kaas... make that _four_ ,” said Byz, checking the shuttle schedules on her holopad. She was somewhat aware of Khem’s growing irritation, a looming mass of disapproval behind her. “Now what?”

            “Dromund Kaas isn’t going anywhere,” Tawa-ret said, waving her hand dismissively. Apparently, she wasn’t concerned about keeping their masters waiting, or annoying the Dashade. “Let’s get something to eat, and then we can go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god why did this horrible chapter take so long to write?
> 
> Oh right because it's 100% all my own and I'm incredibly self-conscious about my ability to write and keep a consistent character voice. Hahaha...
> 
> Say hi to Tawa-ret, she's slightly (???) obnoxious and incredibly strong-headed, but she's relatively friendly and fun. You know, for a Sith. If you don't like her... well, I'll warn you right now that she's going to be Byz's BFF and turn up a lot hahaha. Sorry.
> 
> Also if anyone hangs around tumblr I've made the fic searchable on there via the "heart of lightning" tag. (holosoftheoldrepublic, if anyone's curious for the swtor blog).


	16. The Black Talon (Part 1)

            After eating a meal — something Byz hadn’t realised, until she’d put the first morsel into her mouth, that she’d _sorely needed_ — that Tawa-ret complained was sub-standard but Byz and Vette agreed was very good, the two Sith apprentices and their companions made their way to the Dromund Kaas departure shuttles.

            Luckily for Byz, Tawa seemed to know where she was going and it was not long before they were walking off the elevator towards the shuttles. An alien valet appeared to be trying to get their attention, but Tawa was ready to just walk right on by and ignore him if it weren’t for Byz stopping to listen.

            “Greetings my lord,” he said Tawa, completely ignoring Byz. “On your way to the capital?” At Tawa’s terse nod, he continued. “There is a shuttle to Dromund Kaas. Nice for a solo traveller. Normally takes several days. However, a Darth Baras has also arranged a berth for you on the Black Talon. It’s an Imperial transport and is considerably faster.”

            _Baras? Isn’t that the name of Tawa’s master?_ Thought Byz. _Must be nice, for her to have a master with that much pull..._

            “As it should be,” Tawa said imperiously.

“The Black Talon goes through dangerous territory, though,” the valet continued. “You will need friends with you for that route. If you’re alone, I’d advise the direct shuttle to Dromund Kaas. Safe travels, my lord.” With a bow to the two of them, he moved on to take care of other guests.

            Byz turned to look at Tawa. “What do you think? A quick trip would be better than a longer one, no?”

            The warrior huffed. “Hardly comfortable, a berth in a transport ship.”

            “What, and a shuttle is?”

            “I will concede to your point there,” Tawa sighed. “Very well, let us use this opportunity that my master gave us then.” With that, Tawa was off once again, her purposeful stride and intimidating appearance clearing the way for herself and Byz to make their way to where the Black Talon was docked.

            Byz was quite envious of this crowd-parting talent that Tawa possessed, and wondered if it was something that could be taught. _Perhaps it’s that unbearable level of confidence she exudes all over the place._

            It did not take long for the two Sith and their companions to get checked into the transport ship and their belongings carted away to be kept safely (especially as Byz hardly had anything, even after Tawa’s generosity). Byz had the suspicion that a few steps had been omitted due to the fact that they were Sith, but as she’d scarcely ever travelled before she couldn’t be certain.

            “Don’t be so nervous, Byz,” Tawa said easily as they made their way down one of the corridors of the ship. “Space travel is incredibly safe, and if anyone tries to harm you, you can kill them without worrying about a reprimand. It’s one of the benefits of being a Sith.”

            “That valet said that this Black Talon goes through dangerous territory, though,” Byz pointed out. “So I am not going to relax my guard just yet.” _Probably never._

            Ahead, Byz could see an important-looking human woman talking with some soldiers, catching the tail-end of whatever conversation they were having.

            “Well, tell the captain that I’ll be back on the bridge as soon as I’ve done his errand,” the dark-haired Imperial was saying to the soldiers.

            “Yes, sir,” was the quick, automatic response from one soldiers, who left to relay the message.

            The woman turned to the approaching Sith. “Good to have you aboard. I’m Lieutenant Sylas, second-in-command of the Black Talon,” she greeted them. “We’re your ride to Dromund Kaas.”

            “It’s a pleasure — truly,” Byz replied respectfully, steadfastly ignoring Khem’s grunt of disapproval. Tawa rose an eyebrow, most likely not used to seeing a Sith be so polite, but said nothing.

            “Indeed,” said the Lieutenant, and if she thought Byz’s response strange, she kept it hidden. “Welcome; it’s not a comfortable ship, but as transports go, it does its job. On our present course, we should arrive at the capital within a day. Won’t be any trouble.”

            “See?” said Tawa, gesturing at the Lieutenant. “She agrees with me.” Byz wasn’t sure if Tawa was referring to lack of trouble, or comfort. Possibly both, with what Byz knew of the Zabrak so far.

            “I should also add on behalf of everyone: it’s an honour to service the Sith and the Korriban Academy,” Sylas continued, bowing respectfully. “Consider yourselves our guests.”

            “Your respect for the Sith is admirable, Lieutenant,” Byz said easily. _At least I learned how to do polite, meaningless chit-chat in my observances as a slave._ Another disapproving grunt from Khem; clearly he didn’t like pleasant small talk.

            “Thank you, my lord. I’m the Empire’s loyal servant,” Sylas returned. “I won’t keep you further. When we arrive in the Dromund system, I’ll have you informed. In the meantime, your droid’s in the conference room.” This was addressed to Tawa. “We picked it up with the upgrades from Geonosis; when we docked here, it mentioned your name.”

            Tawa frowned. “I don’t know what droid you’re talking about,” she said.

            “Oh? The machine asked for you, so I assumed you were the owner,” said the Lieutenant. “My mistake. In any case, it seems someone wants to get in touch. The conference room is down the hall; I’ll be on the bridge.” She turned to the remaining soldiers. “And you, soldier — when you’re done playing honour guard, get back to your post. This isn’t a luxury yacht.”

            “Yes, sir,” said the marine with a quick salute.

            Tawa sighed as they left, rubbing her temple. “I suppose we should see what this droid wants,” she muttered, stalking down the hall with clear annoyance vibrating off her, and Byz had to jog slightly to keep up.

            “Identity confirmed!” the droid piped up as they walked into the conference room. “Good day; I am advanced protocol unit NR-02. My functions are diplomacy, translation, manslaughter, and calumniation.” _Wait, what was that third one?!_ “I have an urgent message for you from my master. Please stand by for delivery.”

            “Who’s your master, and how does he know I’m here?” Tawa demanded.

            “This is unit NR-02 to Grand Moff Kilran,” the droid said as way of response, setting up what Byz presumed to be a holocall. “You are now in contact with the Black Talon.”

            “Well, so I am,” Kilran said, affecting a tone as if he was shocked, but Byz highly suspected was sarcasm.  “And it seems you’ve brought me just the person I’ve been looking for.”

            Even as a mere hologram, Grand Moff Kilran was an imposing man, standing tall and intimidating, exuding a presence that demanded to be obeyed, his expression serious dark. He could possibly have been considered handsome, but terrible scars marred one side of his face. Byz instinctively stepped slightly behind Tawa, not wanting to be noticed by such an important and intimidating man. Hopefully, Tawa’s commanding presence would be distraction enough.

            “My name is Rycus Kilran. I’m commander of the Fifth Fleet, second to the Minister of War, and — my personal favourite— the so-called “Butcher of Coruscant”,” he introduced himself, and Byz was even more certain she didn’t want to be noticed.

            “I don’t understand,” said Tawa. “What’s going on here?”

            “It’s apparent I need another pair of hands,” he replied, “So I asked NR-02 to check the ship’s passenger manifest.”

            “My good fortune that I was in a position to contact you; I was already aboard the Black Talon,” the droid piped up.

            “Six hours ago, the Republic engaged in an illegal border skirmish on the edges of Imperial territory,” the Moff continued. “One enemy warship escaped. That warship — the Brentaal Star — is carrying a passenger of vital strategic importance. Yours is the only vessel placed to intercept.”

            “This passenger the Brentaal Star is carrying... who is it?” Tawa asked, her frown deepening and a furrow appearing between her brows. She looked as displeased about the turn of events as Byz was.

            “The warship’s passenger is code-named “the General”. We don’t know his identity, but the Republic believes he possesses military secrets — _our_ military secrets,” Kilran explained. “I trust the reports; the General must be captured or killed. Captain Orzik, the man commanding your transport, doesn’t share my enthusiasm. He’s disobeyed my orders to attack.”

            Byz couldn’t blame the Captain for that; what hope could a mere transport vessel have against a _warship_? Kilran was either mad or severely over-confident on the capabilities of Imperial soldiers.

            “Feel free to show him what the Empire does to cowards,” Kilran continued. “Then commandeer his ship, find the Brentaal Star, and deal with the General.”

            _Wait, what?!_ “Not exactly a simple request, you know,” Byz found herself blurting out before she could stop herself.

            “This is not a simple age. Our millennia-old war against the Republic simmers while we engage in skirmishes and border disputes,” said Kilran. “Yet we cannot grow complacent. Traitors like your Captain and threats like the General must be eliminated.”

            With that, the transmission ended, and Byz felt she could breathe easier now that the imposing visage of Grand Moff Kilran no longer glowered down at her. However, she hadn’t the faintest idea how they were supposed to achieve what Kilran was asking— two Sith, a Dashade, and a tiny Twi’lek slave were expected to take over a transport ship and then assault a warship? Insanity!

            “I will lead the way to the bridge,” the droid said. “Once Captain Orzik is deposed and our hijacking is complete, we may proceed to the Brentaal Star.”

            “Wastes no time, that droid,” said Tawa with grim humour. “I’ve heard of Grand Moff Kilran. Normally I would refuse such orders on the grounds that I am _Sith_ , but... he commands a considerable amount of power. I would think even Baras would think twice about defying him.”

            “Wonderful,” Byz sighed, running her hands through her hair. “I escape slavery and become Sith, only to die in a suicide mission I shouldn’t even be part of!”

            “Don’t be so dour, Byz,” Tawa said cheerily. “We are Sith, and the galaxy must bow before our will. Come along now.”

            With that, she strode out of the conference room after the droid, and after casting an uncertain glance at Khem, Byz followed after her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry it's not going to take 15 chapters to get through the Black Talon. Probably... (seriously though I'm aiming for a total of three). I was thinking of just making The Black Talon an extra long chapter and then this introduction bit was over 1700 words so I went "naaaaah".
> 
> Which would be less terrible if I wasn't so bad at keeping this updated... sorry.  
> If any of Tawa's "game" dialogue seems off it's because it's actually Byz's because I'm too lazy to run through this Flashpoint with a Warrior to see if any of the dialogue changes (such work ethic!).
> 
> In other news I want to draw Byz hiding behind Tawa because Kilran is a big, scary man hahaha.


	17. The Black Talon (Part 2)

            It did not take long for the two Sith to run into trouble, in the form of a rather large group of marines.

            “Please move aside immediately!” One demanded as they approached. “Halt! My lord, this is a restricted area — Captain Orzik’s command. You’ll have to leave immediately.”

            Tawa’s expression was indignant, and Byz could almost hear her saying _“the audacity of some Imperial telling a_ Sith _what to do!”_ If it was left up to her, things would go poorly very quickly.

            “I suggest you back off before someone gets hurt,” Byz recommended, wanting to avoid conflict. They were going to need as much of the ship’s forces intact if they were expected to take on a warship, after all.

            “I’m afraid I can’t do that,” the lieutenant said, which was no more than what Byz had already expected. “This is the command deck entry hatch. No one’s allowed in until we reach our destination.”

            “Time is limited,” NR-02 piped up. “We must proceed to the bridge immediately.”

            “Our orders were to treat any approach as an attack,” the lieutenant warned. “You need to take your droid and move it!”

            “I’m stepping away,” said Byz, grabbing onto Tawa’s sleeve and tugging her along. “There’s no need to be nervous...”

            “Our window to intercept the Brentaal Star is rapidly closing,” said NR-02. “Engaging expediency measures.” It began tapping on its holoterminal, and an alarm started up.

            “Blaster’s out! Attack, attack!” The lieutenant yelled, and the entire company drew their weapons as Byz cursed. _Blasted droid forced our hand!_

            Tawa’s reflexes were much quicker than Byz’s, and before the marines had fully readied their weapons she’d come flying into view and smashing her lightsaber into one as she landed, batting aside the blaster fire from another soldier immediately after in one fluid movement. Her attack was followed by Vette, who’d quickly pulled out two blaster pistols to fire rapidly on the soldiers.

            Grimacing, Byz called upon the force to summon a storm of lightning, and the stars only knew how it managed to only hurt the soldiers, leaving Tawa and Khem — who’d rushed forward to join the fray — alone. She tried to shrug off the screams of the soldiers as they writhed in pain, lightning arcing amongst them before they collapsed to the floor, dead. They were only doing their jobs, what they had been told to do; they most likely had no inkling as to Kilran’s orders or their Captain’s defiance.

            Between the four of them, it didn’t take long to dispatch the soldiers. Tawa was breathing heavily, but her face was split with a massive grin — she was clearly enjoying herself immensely. Byz wasn’t feeling terribly  happy with the way things had turned out, but she didn’t have time to worry about it as Tawa took off, Vette following close behind, presumably to destroy anything between her and the Captain. _She and Khem would have made a much better match than I..._ Byz thought despairingly to herself before running after the other Sith, Khem staying close behind her.

            Byz stayed back a ways during the fights towards the bridge, staying close to Vette while Khem and Tawa took the focus of the marines. With this vantage point, she was able to note on Tawa’s fighting style, which relied much more heavily on the lightsaber over force techniques, a contrast to Byz.   _I guess even the Sith have variations amongst themselves_ , she thought as she arced lightning between her foes and cast a shielding over Tawa and Khem to mitigate the damage.

            “If you are concerned about the loss of life, I assure you — the deaths of all injured crew members will be strategically insignificant,” the droid intoned along the way, and Byz had to resist the urge to destroy it. It was only a droid, after all; what could it know of empathy?

            Eventually they reached the bridge, Tawa slamming down with the Force to take out a group of marines at once. She was a ferocious sight, almost glimmering with the power of the Force, her expression fierce and intimidating, helped by the deep red of her skin and the stark black of her facial tattoos. Lightsaber out, she approached the Captain with Byz close behind.

            “All marines have been neutralised,” said NR-02. “Scanning for additional threats.”

            “What’s going on?” one of the bridge crew asked. He looked towards the Captain. “Sir...”

            “Stay calm, Ensign. Everyone stay calm,” said Captain Orzik, a younger looking man with blond hair peeking out from underneath his cap.

            “No threats found. The bridge is secure,” said the droid.

            “Who’s the one in charge?” Tawa asked, an intimidating scowl on her face.

            “I’m Captain Revinal Orzik,” Orzik introduced himself. “I’m pretty sure I know what this is about. For the record, I take complete responsibility for my actions.”

            “Captain Orzik, I’m told you disobeyed a _direct order_ from Grand Moff Kilran,” Tawa said bluntly, taking a step towards the man. Tawa was what Byz considered to be of an average height, but she commanded such authority that she might as well have been twenty metres tall. If Byz had been on the receiving end of her wrath, she’d be on her knees and begging.

            _I really do not make a very good Sith. I need to shake off these slave tendencies if I hope to survive,_ Byz inwardly grimaced.

            “Yes, I had no idea he’d respond this brutally,” he replied. “He must want the Brentaal Star’s passenger pretty badly. Maybe he just hates me.” _I don’t think Kilran likes anyone very much._ “The Black Talon would be destroyed chasing a battleship. I fought in the war before, and I’ll fight again — but I don’t do suicide missions.”

            “We’re not looking to make a martyr of anyone,” Byz interjected, ignoring the sharp look Tawa gave her. “We can complete this mission and survive.”

            “I expect _you_ believe that,” Orzik muttered. “I see it differently. Listen to me —you managed to hijack one ship, and that’s certainly impressive. But taking on the Brentaal Star is something else altogether.” He started pacing as he talked, and Tawa — realising that no further bloodshed appeared to be coming— rolled her eyes and put her lightsaber away, crossing her arms. “I might be able to get us close — but then you’d have to board it, fight an army of Republic soldiers and somehow find the general.” He shook his head. “It’s unacceptable.”

            With the Captain’s hopelessness and Tawa’s careless indifference, moral was quite poor on the bridge indeed. Byz decided that a show of bravado was needed. “The more challenging, the better,” she said, seeing Khem nod in approval from the edge of her vision.

            “Moff Kilran found an accomplice crazier than he is,” Orzik sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Seems I have very little choice in the matter. You have my crew — I’ll cooperate. For now.”

            _I’m going to nip_ that _in the bud right now._ “ _Don’t_ give me cause to rethink this,” Byz warned, slow and threatening.

            “I’ll do my best to remember that,” said Orzik, meeting her eyes squarely. She had to give the Captain credit — he had a strong backbone and a dedication to doing what he felt was the right course. She was happy enough not to kill him — the Empire needed men like him, to offset men like Kilran. Hopefully he would do well with himself... assuming they all survived.

            “Downloading new orders to all bridge consoles,” said NR-02. “Priority one: Intercept the Brentaal Star.”

            “You heard the droid, everyone. Prepare to jump to light speed,” Orzik ordered, and the crew quickly enacted his order, the ship surging through a shining tunnel as it leapt across the galaxy towards its destination, Byz pushing down the urge to grimace as her stomach somersaulted in reaction.

            “Emerging from hyperspace now,” said the ensign from before. “One Thranta-class warship on the scanners. Powering up...”

            As he spoke, the other ship that had appeared before them opened fire.

            “Enemy is firing! Turbolasers, missiles... and what looks like... transport pods, I’m not sure,” said another ensign.

            “Evasive manoeuvres!” Ordered Orzik. “Keep the pods at a distance — they look harmless, but they’ll latch into the hull and cut at us with sabotage droids!”

            “Evasive manoeuvres — aye, sir.”

            “Sir, three shuttles on an intercept course!”

            “An assault party,” said Orzik darkly. “We don’t have sufficient defenses to keep them from landing.”

            _That sounds an awful lot like he wants_ us _to deal with it._ “Let them land — we can handle any boarders,” Tawa assured him.

            “This course of action is deemed advisable,” the droid agreed.

            “Security will meet you at the entrance to the shuttle bay,” said Orzik. “Defend the ship at all costs — and we’ll get you to the Brentaal Star.”

            Tawa nodded brusquely, then turned on her heel in a power stride towards the lifts that led to the shuttle bay, and Byz once again had to jog to keep up. Some cardiovascular exercises were most definitely in her future.

            As they approached, there was a loud crashing noise as the ship shuddered, and the computer informed them that the secondary power systems had been damaged. “ _Wonderful,_ ” Byz muttered as the elevator sent them down.

            “Just further incentive to make us hurry along,” Tawa said dryly.

            “You’re awfully calm about all this.”

            “I am Sith — nothing can harm me or stand in my way,” Tawa replied, stepping out of the elevator as the doors opened. “It would behoove you to remember this, and take it to heart. If you are not utterly sure in yourself and your abilities, your enemies will crush you.”

            “Incoming shuttle!” One of the marines shouted, and then the Republic was upon them.

            It was the first time Byz faced ‘the enemy’, and she was taken aback by the hatred in their eyes. On Korriban she’d witnessed many emotions in her enemies’ faces, but nothing like _this_. Acolytes on Korriban were desperate or crazy, and sometimes both. Ffon had been contemptuous, as had Harkun. As much as hatred was considered part of the Sith way, it wasn’t really as common as people thought it was. Mostly it just seemed to be power plays and pettiness.

            The Republic soldiers, on the other hand, most assuredly _did_ appear to hate the people they were combating, and she was temporarily frozen in shock, standing by the elevator as Tawa launched into the fray. Khem had to give her a shove forward before she finally reacted, once more shoving her feelings aside to get the job done.

            For all their fierceness, the Republic soldiers fell quickly, unable to match the combined strength of two Sith, even if they were but mere apprentices. Tawa-ret’s lightsaber led the fray, matching against single enemies quickly and violently, while Byz stayed back and dealt with many in large storms of lightning that paralyzed what it did not kill immediately. They complimented each other greatly, and it did not take long until they reached the shuttle bay.

            Tawa-ret was breathing heavily, but she had a ferocious grin on her face that showed just how much she was enjoying herself. “See how easily they fall before us? The Republic has no hope in defeating us; they will fall before the might of the Empire!”

            “I hardly think this is indicative of the Republic’s might, and might I remind you that there was a treaty signed some years back...?” Byz scanned the shuttle bay, taking note of the enemies that remained. “How many of these people are we going to have to kill?”

            “The quickest route would be to take out the leaders of this boarding party,” Tawa replied, looking across the bay. “There,” she said, pointing with her lightsaber towards a group of men standing near a Republic shuttle. “Those are the leaders. See how they stand, the bearing of leadership they hold? We take them out, the Republic will give pause before sending out another boarding party.”

            With that, Tawa jumped over the railing that surrounded the upper part of the shuttle bay, dropping lightly to the ground, apparently deeming the ramp to be beneath her. Byz quickly followed as Tawa slowly approached the boarding party, eyes narrowed. She gestured to Byz to fall in close behind her. “Focus on the droid — it has healing capabilities, and we do _not_ want a foe that about to be defeated to gain a second wind. We’re outnumbered, so getting rid of as many of their advantages is vital.”

            “Tawa, they look a lot more prepared for battle than we are,” Byz hissed. “If they’re leaders then they have better armour, better weapons, better training..!”

            “And we are _Sith_ , and not one of them are force sensitives. They will be powerless against our might. Now, before they see us, let us _attack!_ ”

            Byz was beginning to think that Tawa was less convinced in the superiority of the Sith and her own power, and more that she was completely _insane_. Before she could say so, however, the Zabrak launched forward, force propelling her the distance to smash her foot right into the droid’s face.

            The Republic boarding party recovered quickly from the sudden attack, one shouting “You never should have attacked us!” before blaster fire began, focused intently on the flashy Zabrak before them, and then on the large, intimidating Khem Val as he charged into the fray. The pair’s ability to keep enemy attention on them allowed Vette and Byz to focus on dealing damage, at little risk to injury themselves.

            It did not take long to down the medic droid, Tawa-Ret’s lightsaber crashing through its neck, spun into a fluid movement that had her smacking back the vibroblade of one of the boarders away and smashing it against the durasteel armor he wore, all before the mechanical head clattered on the floor of the shuttle bay.

            Tawa made a gesture with her free hand, and Vette switched her focus to the boarder with the vibroblade — it seemed he was the leader. While the two took him on, Byz directed Khem to assist her with the other boarders and keep them off of Tawa.

            Whether through carelessness or misjudging of her enemy, one of Tawa’s deflections came too slow, and she took the vibroblade to the shoulder, staggering her back and putting her on the defensive, teeth bared in anger or defiance against the pain. The boarder pressed his advantage, increasing the frequency of his strikes, pushing Tawa back. If she’d been alone, she might have been in trouble, but Byz noticed her new friend’s distress.

            Switching her attention away from the other boarders, Byz created a barrier around Tawa with the Force, giving her extra protection against the leader while she focused on the little bit of healing energy she knew how to manipulate. In a few seconds, Tawa-ret had the full use of her arm back, and she continued her assault on the leader with a vengeance.

            In not much time at all, the two Sith and their followers had defeated the boarding party leaders, and they took a few minutes to clear out the rest of the boarders from the hanger bay.

            “See, Byz?” Tawa said, breathing heavily. “Nothing us Sith can’t handle.”

            “We could handle the boarding party, sure,” said Byz, leaning against the wall while they waited for the elevator. “But I don’t see how we can take on an entire Republic ship.”

            “Same thing, larger scale,” she replied with a shrug, while Vette muttered something about “crazy Sith” behind her. “Let’s give the Captain the good news then, yes?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fuck this chapter. I hate this chapter. It took so damn long to write. The final part of the Black Talon is hopefully going to be more interesting and then we get to play on Dromund Kaas! :D


End file.
